An Evening

            It tasted like somebody had put the one great-land-piece and another great-land-piece in a cup, mixed it with some of the sea and made it hot. It also tasted like nuts, and it tasted like the birth of Jesus. It tasted like dancing, too, the prettiest dancing and the bounciest made-sounds from a man of the east. It tasted a little bit like my house back home. It tasted like a lot of things, and I liked it.

            We talked about our friends while we drank it, friends we had before and that we might still have. We talked about time more than anything else. (But when is anybody not talking about time?)

            What we talked about held much weight, but what held more weight was her face as I looked at it (and perhaps my face as she looked at it). It was dark, stern, but welcoming. Its shape comes from a land just west of the land that the bouncy made-sounds that the land-and-sea-drink tasted like came from. And the shape of my face comes from a land nearby, but a darker land where faces are lighter. We are both cut off from those lands, she by several years and I by many.

            We laughed together. (I may have even giggled.) We laughed, but I do not think that it was because of funniness. I think the laughing was because of niceness. Everything was so nice. (What could I do but laugh?)

            I thought about kissing her face, it was so nice, but then I thought that I did not need to do that. Maybe I could have kissed a part of her face that most people would not kiss. Not her lips, but the tip of her nose or right between her eyes or maybe half-way between her left ear and the middle of her cheek (near the jaw-bone). Anyway, I did not kiss her face, which was fine.

            We talked about trees, too, puffy tress. How at some point in time we thought to bring what was outside inside when we are jolly. It sure is lovely. (But who thought of it?)

            We talked until our land-and-sea-drinks were all gone, and then we kept talking for a while. We kept talking about our friends and our blood-people, who we both love so much.

            We held more and more weight with our words, and more and even more weight with our faces, with the looks on our faces. Much time had passed and much had been held – words, laughing, niceness, kiss-thoughts, cups full of land-and-sea-drink, empty cups – all of them so weighty.

            I did not want to go, but after some time I had this thought that I had to go. And so I went. For the last small stretch of time we spoke no words, and it was only faces. I swung the door on its hinges and asked her to feel more niceness in the following time, which was night-time.