This is from a Guest Writer, Eugene Gant, who’d followed LONDON CHRONICLES with keen interest, but disappointed at the lack of a love story therewith. Here’s his offering for your reading pleasure.
Things had settled down. School was proceeding on. Classes were what they were, some interesting, some boring. London had been as expected: a heady mix of experiences, bright lights, loud voices, neon glows and static whispers. Nothing of the unreal city T. S. Eliot wrote about. Death had not undone any here. More like life and living and quickness to the blood and bones. Not even BREXIT could suppress the displays, the excitements, and the movement. Perhaps it was the animal spirits and irrational exuberance of high finance of which London was its European capital or the cornucopia of nationalities on display. Everything seemed mobile, in motion, nothing was stagnant, and everything was in flux. Morpheus had been banished it seemed and the apotheosis of a twenty-four hour city was fully on display.
Too many events to attend and even those not attended were not sorely missed. He had proven a glutton for the delights of the city. He was like fire, demanding more yet never satisfied. That’s when a reset came to his entire experience. It was something he wasn’t looking forward to. He wasn’t certain how it had come about. Perhaps, it had occurred to him in the first two weeks of new acquaintances but as the brain is wont to, following numerous previous heartbreaks, it had subconsciously repressed this emotions. You have to starve a desire to kill it or so the saying goes. Alas, it was not possible. Though not big brother intensity in terms of shutting out the outside world but student life is a series of encounters and repeat encounters in semi secluded spaces. Adults were also away from home, from the familiar and the “historically” safe. They were in HALT (Hungry, Angry, Lonely, and Terrified) territory. The world had shrunk but technology had not devised the means to resolve loneliness. With distance comes loneliness, with loneliness comes desire, and with desire comes love and lust. There was an ever present possibility of love, lust and intimacy in all its forms. He wasn’t spared this experience. Not this time. The brain had no effect. It couldn’t control that which was coming. It was inevitable you could say and you would be right.
From a long ago country that had held a fascination for him, she had an unusual name which immediately registered with him. He seems to like collecting unusual names and the more unusual the name, the more likely he is to remember it. However this went beyond the name. There was her skin, coloured like the moon reflecting the sun’s rays, smooth as a river pebble, soft as feathered pillows. The cadences of speech coupled with the name that evoked the silent murmurs of distant waterfalls emanating from lips like pollen laden petals seeding his heart. Above all were the eyes, white orbs shaped as pearls, white as ivory stirring depths far deeper than he ever let on. He believed in the divine before the experience but he wondered if the divine had graced earth. A flitting experience it was but with wide ramifications. Cupid had sent a bow straight to his heart. No shield could stop it. The only salve, rejection from the source.
– Eugene Gant