From shadows and stories.
By Mario Rmz
28 Jan 2013
"The body of one is an eternal temple". Since centuries humans try to develop the skills about how to communicate not only with the speech, rather to represent ideas and feelings with a better tool: the body.
A second skin, a wall of a temple an empty frame waiting to be painted, expressing the most intimate and personal histories of every second of our life, leaving a fingerprint trough all the way.
All start with a movement, with that phrase that anyone heard but all of us understood, recounting experiences a life time in such a short time. That's her story:
A moment in the night I just woke up, and I felt alone, cold winter night, but I was warm. My skin was not a friend anymore of my clothes; it was a strange feeling all over my body. That sensation when you only need to be in contact with the air that surrounds you, so I let it be.
Walking all over the place I found sights where memories only toke me for surprise, deep and scared to not be alone anymore. The great sound of the silence that was louder than never before, then my friend, the perpetual light, was crossing all over my naked body, deflecting over and over again. I was not naked any more. My skin was my new haven, it took a second that lest endless that night. [...]
I felt the cold floor under my feet, every step I gave was more and more intense, the beam of light make more and more intense every experience of that lonely night. Every single part of my body act in a different way, with an own direction and wish, the only thing in common it was the need of new experiences that could not be allocate anymore inside my soul.
My hands demand an extra sense, my finger tips where burn, they need it to explore every inch of my body, they ask for a collision with my hips, the closest part from them. It was strange but lovely feeling, detecting every edge that was been surround. At the begging I most confess that I felt a bit shy and guilty but as my heart beat rises up, I calm down and my body only kept handling everything.
As one of my hands roll over the wall of the corridor, I realize the texture of it, never been aware that it was so rough but so simple and nice for me. My body found protection over it that night, with my temperature so high and the wall so cold, it was the perfect combination.
Suddenly I just stop, looking at the nothing, only an empty room and more loudly the sound of the silence. Resting for a sec, and resembling all the last happens in my life.
From one moment to the other, the clock stop, and when I look back, it was almost 4 am. My friend the night only is about to die, and I am still alone. Regretting not to have the courage to do it before, I run and fall straight in to my bed, letting the sheets to stroke my naked body, I realize by then I was completely sweaty.
Finally my eyes started to close, and all those memories went off. The magic and lonely dark night of winter was over for me.
My last memory was that perfect feeling to fall sleep cover by the cold and soberness of the night, been only join with your soul, and your second skin.