What is getting out of hand | Culture | EUROtoday

There is a contented couple subsequent door. Beyond, some outdated males, who’re already searching into the ravine. The waiter circling like a partridge. And I, right here, on this nook of the restaurant, studying an article about Caravaggio.

She caresses his hand, and he, after all, higher enjoys her vermouth, the depth of her neckline, these clearings that come throughout within the forest of her gaze. Thus, typically, life catches us, strolling on a thread, the cable stretched over the void, the rod for steadiness. So, typically, we problem nothing, we clear the spurs on its nostril, in order that it is aware of as soon as and for all that life is severe.

The two outdated girls (they’re girls, sure, deep-sea ships), additional away, are telling one another about their lives. Maybe they discuss a primary love or the rain that will get into their bones, , that factor about age, who is aware of. Maybe it is nothing like that. Maybe they speak concerning the day that has handed them by, one other extra, one other much less, and that is how the docks keep, that is how even battleships sink.

Maybe it is from the yr to come back, nonetheless so far-off, as a result of, they know, day-after-day is a life. They know and act as if nothing had occurred, phrases and extra phrases, tendons, fingers, eyes that shine. They throw the whole lot into the hearth, all of the wooden they’ve left, they burn it there. And so they appear, with the chestnuts on, glowing, dealing with the lighthouse.

Now the lady, blonde, smiles at him, additionally blonde (are they windmills? are they Dutch?). She would not know, and neither does he, what it is prefer to reside infinite infinities. But they’re younger, they’ll study. I simply realized: his fingers are large. Those of each. Do they caress higher? Does measurement matter? Meanwhile, I discover out that Caravaggio has solely lived thirty-nine years, a lightning bolt.

Now she takes the glass of wine, a pink wine, to her mouth, and he, after all his mouth, hers, needs to eat it, needs to swallow it. This is how one is relieved from loss of life, in sips. This is how one finds out that life, sure, is price one thing, a penny, a greenback, a franc, no matter, it’s price one thing. In any case it’s price greater than a pellet. Life is a bullet, and that is the way you shoot it, unhealthy, good, till it bursts, till the bones cease dancing.

She cheers up, now she eats, smiling, loving, loving, the dish, after which the wine, and that warmth enters her total physique, it is going to be the life that turns into a lizard, it is going to be Monday within the solar, or a discipline burnt, wheat, poultry, yellow cigars, it is going to be the sky that opens.

Or merely a method to spit within the face, the bully, the bossy one, a method to hint all the enjoyment that she now carries inside, immediately, and he, after all, levitating, him singing along with his eyes, singing along with his fingers .

Further on, the outdated girls open up like artichokes, they proceed doing their factor, speaking about the whole lot and nothing, they know what has vanished, however they do not give a rattling, they elevate their glass, and toast this life that’s passing them by. fingers, toast to the brand new yr, another, one much less.