Elusive Dream-Girl

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“The waves are awfully large today.” 

“Really? I didn’t notice.” 

Well of course I noticed. I didn’t want to worry her. It’s not something to worry over. 

The salty breeze swept through my hair and I felt it this time. I mean, I could always feel it, but this time I felt it. It wasn’t particularly sunny, but there was just enough to keep warm. I was sitting upright on this frayed, ugly green beach towel, looking at my knees. Why are knees so bulky? I looked over at Rachel’s’. Hers weren’t bulky. 

“No, I think the waves are large.” 

“It doesn’t scare you, does it?” 

“Not really.” 

Rachel lays down on the frayed, ugly green beach towel and extends her legs. I watched the line of sand that delicately tumbled down as she shifted them. Yes, her knees were not bulky. They were rather pretty. I think you would agree also. 

I do the same and I lay down. She brought her right leg over her left leg. I did the opposite. She laughed. I felt that too. 

“Don’t you think it’s kind of sad?” 

“What do you mean?” 

I turn my head slightly towards her. She looks very perplexed, and when she is perplexed she kind of squints her deep hazel eyes and furrows her brows, just enough where I could see the freckles delicately scattered across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. 

“The waves. Every time they touch the sand, they retreat. They’re cowards.”

“Yes, but they also always come back.”

"I guess, but if you ask me, I don’t think it’s right.”

“Why’s that?” 

“Well look, look at the sand. Every time the wave comes, it touches them in some way. Emotionally, physically, whatever. But when they retreat like the cowards they are, it’s not fair to the sand. The sand is forever, it’s always there, you know what I mean?” 

“Yes I think so.” 

“You’re like the sand.” 

I didn’t understand. I don’t understand the many things Rachel says. 

“Does that make you the waves?” 

“Oh god I hope not.” 

I uncross my legs and prop myself up. You know, you could make a lot of god damn metaphors and I won’t understand. I learned metaphors in the sixth grade, and still. Not a god damn thing. We didn’t say anything for a while. 5 minutes and 23 seconds. I wonder how long it can be until the silence is deafening. Maybe 7 minutes. 

6 minutes 11 seconds. 

7 minutes 3 seconds. 

“Rachel.” 

“No, don’t say anything.” 

10 minutes 45 seconds. 

I hear the cry of the gulls and the breaking waves crash against the sand. I laid back down and tilted my head towards her. She had her hands placed softly right over her belly button. Her pointed chin was tilted towards the sky, and her deep hazel eyes seemed transfixed on something that wasn’t even there. I reach towards her, lightly touching a freckle on her shoulder, but she didn’t seem to notice. She lay still like the calm before a storm. 

I silently brought my hand back to my side, this time I laid quietly, gazing on something that wasn’t even there. 

I felt Rachel grab my hand. Softly, then suddenly very tense. 

This time I didn’t turn my head towards her. We were both laying on the frayed, ugly green beach towel, gazing at something that wasn’t even there. 

Then she said to me, 

“The waves are awfully large.” 

I replied, 

“Yes, I know.” 

 

.pf 

pkbrazil:

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daffiey:

Marc By Marc Jacobs, NYFW SPRING 2015
Hémisphère

Debut décembre, à Buenos Aires
Un soir d’été, sur l’autre hémisphère
Improvise, pour calmer son coeur
Elle s’en va loin pour éviter ses peurs

Qu’importe seule ou accompagnée
En fait, elle s’amuse qu’a moitié
Elle tente en vain de faire sa pudeur
Rêvant aux tableaux d’une vie en couleur

Hésitante, indécise et lointaine
Si fragile, pourtant honnête quand elle sourit
Elle valsait, entre douleur et peine
Mais c’était au fond sa facon d’être ici

Loin des éclats des blockbusters
Des histoires nées pour le téléviseur
Elle reluque les mensonges avec rancoeur
Et aime s’imaginer une vie ailleurs

Dans les ruelles, elle fait les cent pas
A la recherche des ivresses d’autrefois
Tant de frissons ternis à tout jamais
Aux couleurs noir et blanc d’un film muet.

thesoutherly:

Claudia de Pablo for Vogue

t minus six days 

ya

Mouthful of Diamonds // Phantogram