She was like a snowy day at the beach. The best of both worlds.
The sandy colored hair reflected the light in a rainbow of single gold shades. Like the sand creating a landscape, her hair was uneven. The left rebel side was longer than the well-behaved right one. Yet, her face was in asymmetric harmony. Mozart would not have done any better.
Her eyes were like two windows on a house overlooking the sea. Blue. With frequent white tipped waves. A glare of pure beauty. A summer day with human shape.
And she was calm. She inspired calm. Everything in her was as soft as a flock of snow. She talked like a winter snowy day. Her voice tone resembled the quiet sound of snow falling on the ground. To only be listened by who pays attention to it.
Her lips were soft and shaped like a dune. Yet, tailored with an ice precision. Every time they moved, a soft whisper was felt. And every now and then they would reshape in a soul revealing smile. The big blue in her eyes would hit the shore in strong waves. The sun would hide, there was a brighter light in the sky.
Who's gonna run your wild horses. Bono was right. The question was still unanswered. Her eyes revealed an energy that knew no borders. Her outer beauty was a mere shadow of her inner self.
A hurricane of energy trapped inside a delicate cotton field. No owner. The plain was endless and the horses were running.
There were no good or bad things about her. Just things. No adjectives required. She was herself. Everything in her was true. When dealing with this sort of character there is no need for qualifiers. Honesty, in its purest form. The essential, is not visible to the eyes.
And she was the sweetest thing that ever existed. The cherry on top of the cake had left. Betrayed. Chocolate was bitter. Abandoned.
The letters hurried and the words got together. They failed. No sentence could describe her.
Nietzsche was wrong. God exists, after all. The world is a better place now.
Thank you Aleksandra.
