English is not my mother tongue, but rather than blaming my dilute vocabulary, I prefer to blame language in general for being insufficient at describing human attributes that we see and feel but can only ever express by creating a totally new language for this specific purpose. Without further digression, I think I should focus on the subject of this node.
Chance decided that I should be walking through the pedestrian area of a quaint town in France with a Brazilian friend of mine. He suggested that we should go to a small Brazilian music concert that evening, and having nothing much on my agenda I decided to tag along, curiosity being the major factor in this decision. I spent the first five minutes enjoying the fantastic guitar playing and the wild and imposing percussions. Then I looked to the left of the small stage and noticed that a girl had been dancing to the music ever since we got there. The incarnation of the proverbial “Black magic woman” shall have to suffice as a preliminary description of this terrible and yet wonderful woman. She moved with an arrogant grace, like an angel from the white-hot depths of hell, step following step with an unnerving precision and swaying her thorax quite independently of the movement of her legs. The look on her face was one of entranced pleasure as she absorbed every note and reacted to every beat in a euphoric oblivion of everything in the room but the music. Her face bore virgin innocence, while her eyes portrayed the exact opposite. The look in her eyes was simultaneously scary and seductive.
Physically she was about 175 cm tall, and her long tanned legs offered the prospect of hours of investigative exploration. Her delicately curved hips gave way to a blur that made up her slight waist. Focussing on her waist was nearly as impossible as identifying the wings on a busy humming-bird. Her chest was relatively small for a woman of her height, exaggerating the false portrayal of innocence she displayed.
Overall, her looks had
lexicographers make a
dash from the room, scurrying away in all directions to meticulously update the definition of “
sexy” in their respective
dictionaries.
I could not take my eyes off her for fear of losing a split second of that
marvellous spectacle.
The rules of
Narrative would want me to have talked her into
dinner that night, or at least into a
walk in the park the following day, but all the plans I had made for approaching her after the concert were
shot down by my naturally
timid nature, so she was swept away from the room in a cloud of
admirers, leaving me sitting there with nothing much more that the
memory of a woman, who being as
mystical and as
beautiful as
mercury, just as
elusively slipped through my fingers.