Metamorphosis-1. Sensation of the Woman

The cloth rustled… It seemed that my hearing and my vision acquired the ability to focus right here – in this very place, completely ignoring all extraneous restaurant sounds and the fuss of the bodies around us.

The best friend of men.

Who do you think this is?

You’ll never guess.

The most reliable and never betraying friend of men is a cut on skirts and dresses.

We also have friends. Neckline, lace and transparent fabrics. And of course – fashion designers and designers. But this is all later. Our most important friend is «His Majesty the cut on the skirt.»

And this time – he also did not betray me. Opening, exposing, spreading the curtain…

And showing me the way. Direction. Vector.

On my knee – the beginning of the road lay, and now I could see the path – to the horizon.

But I could not sit in a daze, I was not in an art gallery. Next to me is a living woman.

And I had to raise my eyes…

She smiled. She played with me. She was testing me. She checked me.

She suggested that I go along an unknown path. And looked with a question and with interest…

What will I do? How am I able to do things? Am I a man?

…

When you rush along the highway at a speed of 280 kilometers per hour and with a side vision you begin to catch that your opponent is overtaking you. And you need to decide either on recklessness or on defeat…

Then – like a video, they slip somewhere around you – your actions. Your accomplishments. As if giving you the opportunity to evaluate – this, another act – whether he will be worthy to stand on a par with the already perfect. Or not?

Rate it.

But it’s up to you to decide…

No need to prove anything to anyone. It’s pointless. As if you started arguing with your reflection in the mirror.

Are you doing an act? Or – trust in the course of life. Do you feel like a man? Or are you just a clerk, businessman, worker or doctor? A screw, a bolt, a screw – in the thick board of life, in the mechanism of the world, in the articulation of the world and your life…

…

Looking into her eyes, I lower my hand – right on the rise of her foot. So, that my palm rests, almost completely closing, and my fingers and curvature of the ascent, feeling the tenderness of the stocking and the beating pulse on a randomly caught vein, and my thumb slips under the foot, almost to the heel itself…

She winces. And the look – from the student turns into a wondering and approving.

I am starting my Way.

Wondrous leg

female cats

the heel is softer than a flower,

let me hold on

a little leg

milk white skin,

black stocking

and the foot of a ballerina

passion, and not easy to rise

no more attractive

of this picture,

leg!!!!!!!!

on my knee…

(Svetlana Er)

Chapter 3. Grandfather

My grandfather is here. We need to take a break.

Of course, grandfather will not say anything to me, but at least I need to greet him…

Grandfather, hey grandfather…

What’s going on? Mamin `s relatives also knew how to create thoughtforms?

which kind of thought-forms?

Which Mamin `s?

What are you showing here? Fool.

Here we are. Grandfather is out of motivation.

What did happen to him again? He made it to the elder genereal, and he doesn’t calm down. He called me a jerk.

– Grandfather. What’s a jerk?