Night of Moon and Waves: Figueira, Algarve (Portugal)
It was unexpected. I was playing in a square in Lagos and she stopped to listen to me. Few hours later we are on the same bus to a small village called Figueira.
The place is a little gem, but we barely explore it. We are thirsty of Ocean. A 45 minutes walk through the countryside, on a too small for engines track, spares the beach from the assault of the summer mob. The place is almost desert.
A wild, wide white beach opens itself in front of us. I will remember forever your smile when you first saw the sand. The summer is at his peak. Today is the golden season, when everything looks young. The world floats in the sunlight.
The afternoon flows quietly. Our words are careful steps to know who is on the other side, why sometimes we smile differently, why the skin awakes and asks for more when we accidentally touch each other. We spend the day walking, swimming, talking, watching.
After the sunset we pitch the tent and we cook together. You come from the North, from a land of high mountains and snow. It is the first time you camp on a beach. Night, moon and waves are a lullaby for your imagination. They tell a story for yourself only. You don’t speak, you whisper. Your eyes wanders from the moon to the waves, sometimes to me. You smile when you meet my eyes and I barely realize where I am. You could be the world I think, but no words come out from my mouth. We keep watching moon and waves till you fall asleep on my shoulder. We move in the tent. The last view I have is your lips barely open, breathing softly, sleeping quietly. You gently refused me when we were out.
The day after we decide to stay one more night. We simply melt our flesh with the place, we self are a long, gold, idle summer day.
The night is back. The moon is bright, crescent, almost full. The high tide is coming. The Ocean pushes the Earth as an immense wild lover. There is a feeling of growth all around us. We laugh, we play, we run as children. There is nothing else, but we, here, and moon and waves. And it happened.
We are still huffing and puffing and laughing, closer to each other. We did not notice but our hands are already seeking. We slowly stop laughing. Our mouths are just barely open, as a promise. We still pant after the game, the run.
This charged silent already knows what is about to be. We smile and there are no possible words but get closer, slowly, a bit more, a bit more, holding hands, stronger, till our bodies join. The hands release to start playing together as butterflies. We don’t stop to smile but we stop breathing, at least me.
Now the hands begin to explore this new world. From the hip and up, my hands follows gently the rounded lines of your body, lightly, as I am scary to break a dream, to discover you are not real. Your fingers draws my face. You close your eyes as to better understand my shape through your hands. I feel only the violent beating of our hearts and the roaring of the Ocean, and this warmth growing.
Suddenly you open your eyes. Our mouths meet. I touch your face as looking for a way, a door to sink, to get lost in you. We fall on the sand, on the edge of the water. My skin breaks and I can’t understand anymore where is me and where is you.
You overflow me. It is like my first time, but my skin understand the voice of your body, you are calling off my impatience. All become slow, extremely slow, elegant, deep, inner, as the sound of a flute or the quiet flowing of a river.
As lips looking for joy, I go for your body as for the world, I go through your eyes as through the water. I want you to slide, like a fish on my body, gliding in me, and turn me into a sea. I come to eat your mouth, and drag you out, into a night of shells, of moon and waves. We are a whisper of silent foam, the center of a beautiful darkness, a burning moisture, a dark heat, bending and dying long, as a night blossoming into a flower about to fade. Our body opens towards the delicate urgency of the water, we become one surface, one space, one sea.
Sea, water, life, origin. Naked, as being purely made of skin, swimming in the night of the flesh, you are not you but all the women, all the times, all the seasons, all the fruits, and I am myself no longer, I got lost into all the men, I am all the men as you are all the women, and I wished to return to the water, to the Ocean, to the beginning, come back to us, to the night of the water, and with you, with you sinking, sinking in the time, in the Ocean, in the darkness, in the night of the flesh, of the origin, because you, and me, all of us, this night, the Ocean, now I know, were simply the life, beautiful, strong, primordial.
Two days after I look the bus bringing you away. I did not ask your name, nor you asked mine. Years have passed by since then. Where are you? One more summer is ending, but your memory is still in my skin, and it trembles when I think about you.