It's raining. Humidity levels are approaching 100% saturation. In the grayness of the morning the red rooftops have taken on a flat hue. The balcony's in the building across from here weep dark gray tears against the concrete. My skin is clammy. My hair curls against my cheek and my forehead. The time between myself and The First can now be measured in hours. I am jittery with anxiety. My body ticks like a grandfather clock. Thoughts jump from room to room, bouncing off walls in the recessions of my mind. To hold her, to breathe in deeply her scent, to run my hands across her bare back, to caress her face, to kiss her lips, to squeeze her breasts until she gasps into my ear.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Campinas, Brazil - Day 54
It's raining. Humidity levels are approaching 100% saturation. In the grayness of the morning the red rooftops have taken on a flat hue. The balcony's in the building across from here weep dark gray tears against the concrete. My skin is clammy. My hair curls against my cheek and my forehead. The time between myself and The First can now be measured in hours. I am jittery with anxiety. My body ticks like a grandfather clock. Thoughts jump from room to room, bouncing off walls in the recessions of my mind. To hold her, to breathe in deeply her scent, to run my hands across her bare back, to caress her face, to kiss her lips, to squeeze her breasts until she gasps into my ear.
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