(Segovia starts playing at about 20"; all goes black at 40'' - it's part of the idea;
don't worry if you can't see it.)
A pair of beautiful dark-brown eyes passed me in the street. The rest of the slender woman* was wrapped in black, which – egged on by bracing Westerly wind – clung sensually to her forbidden body. But it was her face I wanted to focus on – and couldn’t. All she wanted to show me, and the world, was a horizontal strip starting just below her ravishing black hair** and finishing, cruelly, an inch or so lower.
"Oh, how Arabic***!", I thought, "How romantic!" There is only one man that can take that veil in his hands - and remove it; there is only one man that can put his head close to that hair - and smell it; there is only one man that can slowly run his index along those lips – and kiss them; there is only one man in the whole Allah-given Universe that can look at that face – and appreciate it.
Then I stopped in my tracks.
“What if he doesn’t?”
*(informed) guesswork
**(innocent) fantasy
***not necessarily
photo: spanish-steps.tumblr.com
