Dark Corners of Potential

As we all know, the initial intention of this blog was to write the lives of the others. I know that dear Maura has broken from this goal in the last few posts, but given her current situatedness, she began to think about The Other & Narcissus. So she will turn her thoughts back to them...

Due to her itch to move about and settle somewhere with dark corners, barrels of tea, and enough quiet to allow the din of traditional music and her thoughts to meld together and float over her in a wonderful reverie, Ms. Maura has become a whore of coffee shops. She has visited so many that she is now becoming a bit familiar. She has sat in so many seats that she has regular seats in each one...that's a lot of seats.

But looking around, trying to avoid eye contact with the medieval text before her, she thought about what The Other & Narcissus are doing on a night in their respective lands. The sun was coming in on Ms. Maura's dirty locks, and she thought about what The Other & Narcissus would be doing if they were still in the Emerald City, facing the inevitable dust on historical and literary textbooks that arises when one tries to pull a thesis out of one's arse.

And she decided that what they must be up to...must be much better.

So here's what they better be doing.

To start with The Other...Last night, a wonderfully mysterious looking foreign guard knocked on her window to ask a question about the garbage can outside. In Shakespearean moment, this Stranger saw her emerald eyes and dark hair, like that of a mystical selkie, and decided that despite the fact that their countries were miles apart, and perhaps even at odds at times, he loved her. Reaching for her hand, he lifted her down from her window and decided that they must run away together, if only to a pub across town (since he had another shift the next morning, and well, he keeps the streets safe.) Fingering a brandy glass in his hands, he watched The Other's green eyes as they sat, silently in the dark corner of the pub. There was no need for the loud words that scorch The Other's soul, nor was there need for questions regarding The Other's supposed brick walls encasing her. The Stranger was actually a builder in a foreign life, and all who create things also know how to make them fall to pieces. With one look at The Other, he had crumbled her walls. After silent but perfectly attuned communication, The Other & The Stranger wandered through the streets, in a moment as pure as the snow on the ground. As he walked her back towards her apartment, he confessed that his mother was quite traditional, and that she required that his marriage be pre-arranged. The Other nodded and looked down at her big black boots. And so they agreed: both would convince the mother that in fact, they were meant to be and would not see each other until the marriage day in order to abide by the mother's wishes. So now, The Other sits in her room, pen posed above the page, waiting for the weighty words that befall her in moments of enlightenment, thinking of The Stranger and their fateful day.

Narcissus on the other hand...has found himself in the company of another, by slightly more manipulative ways. The company they share is virtual, as of yet, but will soon be corporal and shall I say, embodied. We'll just have to see how that plays out....manipulations don't get as much attention from Maura. She craves the mystery that her own Jimmy offered her. As well as the tension...She forsees that there might be tension for The Stranger and The Other...but sweet tension, troubled by doubt and sharpened by need.