House of Nezua [Libro]

“Villainy,” whispered the little girl in the elevator with the spider tattoo on her forehead.

Standing next to the large man, her eyes pointed up at his back.

Ding, sang the elevator car, descending. » read the rest of the chapter… «

Without speaking, she led me quickly down the corridor toward a moonlit window at the far end. A pale violet light shimmered back from the surface of her loose, voluminous clothes and we were enveloped by a hushing, rustle of sound as we moved forward.

Finally, we stopped, and she turned to face me. Her dark eyes glimmered with the intensity of spirit for which she was known so well.

“Do you remember why we are here?” she asked me. » read the rest of the chapter… «

relationships…devices people use to control love, and other people. does anyone love freely anymore? to love? and to celebrate a spirit in our lives? or that we can share time with someone? does anyone give love away because they love loving? and want to help you grow? or does everyone come with a bottom line, a codicil, a demand. people…we don’t even know what love is. to many, it is something in there somewhere, behind all the other attachments that guarantee us nutrients and objects and situational leverage. we forget that in love is freedom. and removed from it, love dies….we use our feelings as a volley, we send them out expecting a return. often when we don’t get it the way we want, we bare our teeth. is this, love, then? are lovers people we would bite to death if our kisses were denied?
» read the rest of the chapter… «

“Nezua:

It was so humid in Atlanta.

I grew up in ________, born and raised, and so perhaps there is something about that weather that speaks to my skin. Just before the awards dinner, I was walking from the train to my hotel and the sky was tangled with clouds and there was so much drama in the sky, a drama that the fluid ______ Area winds always erase. It makes it easier here to breathe, to take thoughts that rise up and let them go. When I left my hotel again to walk the two blocks, the sky had burst open and the rain fell so hard it almost seemed to be splashing up from the ground. I shared an umbrella with an old colleague and we both got half-soaked, so the rest of the night in that banquet hall the skin of my back was chilled until we left again.

Atlanta in June has that sweat-drip, that hair-curl.

I guess I’m trying to figure out why I am thinking about what it would be like to kiss you. I guess I’m trying to blame it on the rain. I didn’t think clearly about it until I was on the elevator back up to my room: that I should have walked you out, that we should have spent the night talking more, touching each other perhaps, because why not?

Yet, this feels silly, immature, email flirtations are such mental masturbation. I fancy myself a writer so it’s easy to sit here at my desk and write off your clothes, write my teeth against your nipples, your cock grazing the top of my mouth, sliding into the tight of my throat.

It feels good to write about this because I am in the middle of trying to figure out how to articulate my position on monogamy. So, I hope you forgive me this diatribe … but as the object of my desire, somehow you seem the most likely candidate for being my sounding board. Highly inappropriate really.

The truth is I’m not sure what to think about monogamy. If I had kissed you, I would probably still be writing this email … still using the spark as a catalyst for this thought process. Even though we barely shared a hug or two, I still thought of you when making love to my partner the other day.

I am finding the line incredibly inconsistent in my mind. Liminality. Boundary crossing. It’s hard to give it up. …

And now, I – too – am getting married. So, my quest over the next few months is to figure out how to stand up in front of my friends and family and articulate myself: all the complexities of myself. Or perhaps that is not the point at all.

I’ve suddenly lost the thread. There’s cool air blowing again.

This was just a first attempt, but it’s past midnight now and I want to crawl into bed, try to get straight in my head all the tasks I have for tomorrow and maybe save that levitating space before the fall to imagine back into a sultry night I could have had….”

most of them have blonde or red hair and then she’s there with a head of dark curls unspooling and unfurling against her neck in back looping out from under a blue striped hat and over her bare shoulder a lavender tanktop strap