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| celestial
women. They do not understand why he has turned to sculpting. They
do not understand why he has left his comfortable family life.
They do not understand that if he remained in the rigidity of his
old life, he would have turned into nitrogen ice, cold and hard,
yet burning and destructive to all that comes in contact with it.
He would have become mute. He would have radiated only a chemical
derived directly from death. A chemical which is the exact opposite
of the one he wishes to capture. *** On Wednesday at 7:00 PM, when most of New York City is commuting home from work, James checks in his luggage at John F. Kennedy airport. He is wearing his best suit for no particular reason. Actually, he is wearing his suit because this is the only way he knows how to fly. James buys a magazine at the newsstand and boards the plane. He speaks to his mind in a condescending tone: “Why did I choose Tuscany of all places? Why not travel to the South of France? Do I perceive myself as some scientist on a mission? This is a ridiculous idea. I am flying somewhere I know nobody. What am I trying to prove? Am I just escaping my creative drought?” In a flash, as abruptly as the Tuscany plan came to James’ mind, all his doubts come to a halt. He sits down at seat 47B, and next to him sits a celestial Italian woman. The chemical she exudes leaves him frozen in his seat. Only after take-off does James find the courage to turn his head towards the window and truly witness her aura. She has fallen asleep, or at least her eyes are closed, and James has the opportunity to study her features. Her dark hair is straight and submissive to gravity. To James it seems like a black waterfall. Her |
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