Curled up in my favorite armchair, I consider my latest pile of books from the library. Falling into a story sounds perfect right now. But which book will I read? One of my favorite strategies is to read the first sentence or two, and then pick.

And so, the first: “Clinging to the shrouds, Spry Jim shouted, ‘Hey ho! A PILOT whale off portside!’ There was a flurry of action below. They had been at sea for what felt like an eternity. And if the one whale turned into more, then this godforsaken voyage would not be a total waste.”

Now, the second: “It was a rainy, grim night. The city streets were mostly deserted, and Julia just needed to find a dry place to wet her whistle. Drawing her coat a little tighter, she pushes into the next available café. As she looks for a seat, she notices a table with a group of very striking men, heavy-lidded and golden-haired, looking like a group of LIONS plotting to take over the world.”

And finally, “‘Really, Thomas, I must go.” His reply was to press a single fragile flower into her hand, closing her fingers around it. Gently, he bent over her hand, pressing his lips to her wrist, warm against her cool skin. As he turned and walked away, she opened her hand, gasping when she saw the crushed purple of a small
VIOLA bloom. How had he known?”
A happy sigh, as I decide to follow Julia into the café, wondering what will follow, surrendering to the magic of reading.

Georg’ann

Around this time of year, memories of that long ago weekend still HAUNT me, the ghost of something beautiful that died too quickly. I was not myself in any way I’d known myself before, intoxicated with lust; exhilarated and fully present in my body for the first time since I was a child dancing alone in my room for hours, completely free.

Perhaps not surprising then that it was dancing that started our weekend, a local festival with multiple venues, crowded tents full of pulsing beats and bodies. Moving into the streets, energized at 2 am. You’d SWEAR it was a movie set, everyone animated. You were wearing a PLAID flannel shirt. There to enjoy, not to impress.

We went for a drink, meandering conversation, nothing spoken mattered. Though I do remember you telling me eyelashes are a form of CILIA and us laughing about seductively batting one’s cilia, and then playfully blinking our eyes in various flirty ways.

Later we went back to your VILLA where you gave me figs and crackers to eat while you played the VIOLA with your whole body, slowly caressing the strings with the bow. My own taut body began to quiver, my voice making a music I’d never heard it express.

Heather