I'm currently trying to catch up on my history of art studying for my exam on Friday...But been at it too long so I guess I can afford to use up some time on here :)
It's so frustrating that I'm all inspired to paint something I have in mind right now! Well, it wouldn't be frustrating if I actually had the time to do it. But I'm trying to be responsible about this exam so I suppose...It wouldn't be the wisest thing to ignore my books and start working on something unrelated. I guess I'll sketch it up quickly and then get started on it next week.
I've been listening to way too much roots reggae these past few days. I think it's melting my brain. Look up Bob Marley's album, 'Burnin'', if you're into that kind of thing. It's one of my favourite ones.
Anyway, I'd have liked to make up a more creative post but haven't got the chance. So here's a quick something I wrote a while ago for you to read, for now.
---
of sugar and rum
They made love in a construction site that evening.
Walking up the hill home, arms linked, a little lightheaded from the cocktails which still left a lingering zing on their tongues.
Red, hers had been. Red with strawberry and laced with rum. She had sipped it through a black straw, and then gingerly licked some of the sugar crystals encrusting the rim of the tall glass, even though she knew she wasn’t meant to. He’d found that funny, and told her so.
And then the road was narrow, and it was cold. She felt him lean in and kiss her hair as they walked, on the crown of her head. Looking up at him she smiled, returned the kiss, and then they were up against the wall locked together.
His hands under her shirt gripped at her back, between her shoulder blades and down her spine. She shivered pleasantly at the touch, but whispered close to his ear Careful or my bra will come undone. It already has he said. And then she drew away and looked at him, and he shrugged, a slight grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
She was walking, up the hill, brisk, and turned a corner. He called after her, and looking back round the corner she simply said To fix the bra, follow if you want to.
He rounded the corner just in time to see her ducking under the scaffolding of a construction site, and then they were together there, standing in dust, screened from the road by the green netting which covered the facade of the scaffolding.
Without a word she was pulling her top over her head, and he turned away awkwardly as her breasts were half exposed. I don’t care; she whispered forcefully, and her turned to face her again and watched as she arranged the bra and fumbled with the clasp behind her back. Fuck, it’s twisted. And then she unclipped it again and took it straight off in frustration.
A moment later and they were leant on the scaffolding poles, bodies pressed against each other and ears ringing. Her bra still hung from her fingers, and her bare torso was textured with goose bumps. Partly from the cold and partly from the rush.
***
Later, reading what she had written, it was too personal, too intrusive, so she tore it up and threw the pieces away.
The next morning she looked at herself naked in the bathroom mirror. Half expecting there to be something different to the usual in her reflection. But nothing had changed.
---
Well, there you go. Hope it appeals to someone. Tell me if you don't like it too!
Back to the books now.
Angie
.jpg)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment