Suicide Lolita

The silence of the moment took me to the morning.. the morning she left; she the one I love, adore..lust for.. Lara ..

Back few years ago..on a night in February.. a Tuesday or a Thursday… a day that ends with a Y. A door was bed, reading Civilisation and Its Discontents by S. Freud – 2002 Penguin edition. A dry read on a winter night.. knock knock.. a slight knock; feathers against a window. One moment please. A blond head appears from the corner.. A Julie Christie look-alike, blue-grey eyes..olive coat..jeans and a coral colored top. Is David here – the roommate-. No he is not..just left; maybe to the cafeteria or the store to get something..

What are you reading

Just a Freud book- Psychology
Can you analyse me? A slight smile
Not from the 1st meeting, perhaps I have to know you more

Would you like a beer?
Sure I would like a cold one..

I gave her a cold green bottle from the white fridge in the corner of the room..the one with the magnets..the papers..the Rolling Stones lips on the door and a magnetic bottle opener..what a genius invention.

She took off her shoes.. and i saw her wearing sky blue anklet socks.. sitting like a calm meditating Buddhist on David’s bed with a bottle of chilled beer on her lap.. an image of a spiritual alcoholic.

You look different she said…taken aback i said.. i beg your pardon
Your coloring .. not dark .. nor light.. Jewish maybe?
No a cousin.. we share the same grandfather some few thousands years ago

She looked at me .. her eyes swimming in a sea of milk and honey.. an island in the calm water of the Caribbean. Why are you alone this evening?

Perhaps I am waiting for you.. who knows.. time would tell.. or not

A shy smile.. the bottle is sweating in her lap. Drink up I said. Oh I forgot about it.. gulping the golden syrup of the distillery gods..pouring it down her throat.

Why did you come here she said..

What’s your name I replied
Does it matter.. it does I suppose. Call me whatever you like dr. Freud…
I shall name you Lara.. and then did a pagan sign in the air.. shall I baptise you in the Thames among the muck.. pollution.. green sulfur and dead rats..

No thanks, a shy smile..

I came here to discover myself… my path.. me and my ego. nurture the ego.. suppress the Id and neglect the Superego.

The glee in her eyes.. increasing with every passing minute.. the pupils in a light shade of brown .. a touch of green expanding with the light.. taking in the surroundings of the room.. the posters of the wall.. the messy books all over the floor… heaps of clothes on the floor..shirts in a pile.. socks in another…laundry in a gigantic mountain…

She sat there like an obedient student, taking in the scenery of a messy student life, an entropy in action, the antithesis of her upbringing and background, the state of rigor mortis in which she dwelled for the past 18 years in a secluded southern community.

University or the uninhabited, spontaneous student life is a new experience for this Lara. An adventure into the unknown world, the stepping stones into adulthood… Yet while I was sitting there I understood none of those aspects of her.. i needed long lunatic nights to decipher the past in her eyes.. the past on her body and the past marked in her soul.

Imagine me calling you one night and telling you there is a fire in my kitchen.. i am not far away .. just standing there
waiting for the flames…, they come like snakes
to their mother, for refuge… for death
and i am still on the phone.. with you, just you
talking.. telling you.. my body loves you
longs for one last touch.. the fire eating my toes
my pants
there are charcoal coloured parts of me
and i am slowly burning
would you stay on the phone
and continue the phone call with my spirit that came alive?
She rendered me speechless

I saw death.. love.. everything nice and evil dancing in her eyes
My Lara… A suicide Lolita

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