Sofa

She rested on the sofa. The face turned towards the stove, under a blanket they had bought together, on a trip to the sea. He watched her, smiling at the beautiful shapes of her Nymph body. The silence was broken only by the regular sound with which the wood fell, burning in the burner. She gave him peace, she was his Muse and they lived an intimate passion, made up of sudden kisses, constant hugs and many little dances, with which she enjoyed making fun of him. She was also his lightness, the man had learned to be graceful, in relating to things, forgetting that long period in which he had had a muscular relationship with reality, which had not led to anything good. Maybe she was really falling asleep, in the warmth of a house that was finally hers, after having belonged to her mother, to her father. A dwelling that she finally felt her own, which represented a space of her own, in which to let her bursting vitality as a woman - child shine. Of an eternal girl with a backpack in search of the perfect sea. Of a person who had never resigned himself to evil. There she was, lying on the sofa, changed her breath and fell into a pleasant sleep. About her, people knew how graceful she was in her ways and kind in interacting with others, but not everyone knew how determined she was to respect her ideals as a woman who did not tolerate injustice. He watched her, finding her beautiful. He had been madly in love with her for 13 years. Who knows what they would have done that day of celebration? The blanket drew her Nymph shapes, which he silently admired. They were a couple: he, with the identity of an artist, she with his internal image of a Muse who knew how to inspire everything in his delight. He did not have a single synapse that produced the idea of ​​a separation. She loved him intensely, taking care of him with infinite tenderness. It had no edges. She never wanted to hurt him. He respected with all of himself the child she had been and they had rediscovered themselves capable of playing. Feeling passion for each other. Really love each other. For him, she had been the highest revelation of his existence. To her, he was an excellent travel companion, eternally loyal, who had also learned to be strong for both of them. Together they were truly brave. They were resisting external attacks from a system that doesn't tolerate people being happy. They were part of a silent people, not without words, however. They were part of that tribe you see. Feel. It analyzes and scrutinizes the gestures of those who plot, in the darkness, against the joy of individuals. They fought with common sense an upside-down world, which had lost the logic of the heart, the reasons for feeling, the dynamics of being together in peace. United they proceeded, certain that they would meet many like them, who could not resign themselves to the schizoid advance of a system made only to humiliate otherness and kill the legitimate aspirations of the person. She was still on his sofa, while he wrote for himself and for her, so that one day those words could be read inside. They had not genuflected. They never wanted a world like this. Within a few years, everything had changed. All. Relationships between people themselves had changed. They would have fought, with the tools of intelligence. They wouldn't give up. She, with her child visa under the blanket. Him, with his revolutionary thoughts. They had isolated themselves. Old friendships had been abandoned. Some new human contact was standing instead. Life is choice. You choose every moment. You also choose who to stay with. It is vital. He, from time to time, continued to observe her. She was really beautiful in her serene expression. The man rubbed his hands in search of an idea. There wasn't much to say. They were the resisters and the world didn't deserve them. They still believed in the caress given to an elderly person. The system was meant to kill tenderness. Only inhuman gestures reigned. Perhaps Humanity would have awakened. They wished it from the bottom of their hearts. Perhaps. While waiting, well, it was necessary to remain tender, sweet, like children playing in peace together. No one could have explained what had happened to their lives over the past two years. Many had fallen. Some had lost the light of reason. Others had tried to resist, reasoning, questioning the official narrative of facts. Many had given up. She did not move from her position on the sofa. He looked at her with infinite love. A world could never have been imagined without her. He continued to write. It was almost at the end of his page, which he would deliver to his site. To tell the truth, the man was not worried about the outcome of that battle. He knew he was no longer alone. There was her, with her boundless Muse Beauty and that was enough for him. The man tried to imagine their day together. He wanted to dance with his lei. Sink into his embrace. Feeling her Donna's heart beating steadily. He looked out. There was no one along the way. The silence was broken only by the sound of the stove and the ticking of his computer. He smiled and smiled at his Muse, huddled in a fetal position under her favorite blanket. Perhaps she was dreaming of a new world ...