nascent love like –
the new moon turns
its face away
Beginnings glow, and often fail to spark much longer. When we met we knew a few things, that experience was not measured in promiscuity, that love is for most of us a mirage, that looks and bodies change – over time – and “bien fol qui s’y fie”, as le bon Roi Henry reputedly said…
Our geometry evolved, by trial and error, infinite patience, a shared belief in waiting, respect, and, yes, tenderness, without which physical love declines into hell. Early on you decided you’d be on top, mostly. I respected your will to be in control, to decide when, in the end to rely on this man to be what he claimed to be – nowhere to hide, the armour-less knight. One night we became what we are now: lovers for the long haul, interminable foreplay, exploring the far away shores. Once, I could have made the mistake of dreaming to tame the panther, and was saved by humour, and you showing me the way to understand myself, the feminine side of me.
For now, every time, we discover more, those secret paths that lead to new delights, the beautiful corners of ourselves we have not yet explored, in new geometries of body and soul…
how easily reached
by the autumn wind
– Johnny Baranski
One of our early shared erotic experiences was that of cooking together: the kitchen as a wonderful space for titillating the buds and other parts of our complex mammal’s nervous systems. In truth, we enjoyed cooking together before we determined the geometry of our other encounters. I have described our enjoyment of a simple Indian dish earlier. The diversity of choices, what precedes, what follows, what to drink in-between, and when to meet more intimately, is of course boundless.
As a Franco-German household, with spatters of English, Spanish, Italian, Welsh, Irish, and now Japanese, influences, the world is our oyster… We perfection the art, test new ideas with friends (up to a point), and first of all ourselves: what works, what makes us high, what sends us dreaming. As we travel we gather new recipes, try and compare, this giving us new opportunities to mix pleasures, sometimes with delightful results. There are also failures: things that don’t work, occasionally with comical results – and guess who’s mostly to blame for those?
So what is our ranking? Well, we place Italian cooking on top, particularly the mix of Milanese, Piedmont, Venetian and Tyrollean traditions that prevails in Northern Italy. But this is not exclusive, no more than the geometries of Lieben which may be the subject of my next post…
Sleep is one of the great pleasures of life: the one moment we surrender, safely, relax our body, release our pains, and if we sleep alongside a loved companion, the prelude to, or conclusion of, other pleasures.
For us it is a ritual: I am ahead of you, our clocks being slightly out of perfect synch, and when you lie down, I may already be dreaming. It is intended: you have a choice: let jarhead to his dreams, or wake him up for work, that is for love, that is for what you want, as you want it, as is your privilege. But this is about sleep, for now.
You lie naked, nestled against this great bulk of husband, your slender back offered to him, unconscious, but all-knowing. Later you may stretch and spread your legs, and if I happen to be ever so lightly awake, leaning on my elbow, I will admire your intimacy, the cherished treasures of our togetherness. You may then sense my preying, pull the sheet over your body in your sleep, or turn round and, triumphant and bright-eyed, challenge me to prove my devotion: later still, as you lie again deeply asleep, at day break, I will look out at the sunlight playing over the oak trees, from our window, in wonder at this miracle: the geometry of our dreams.