The murky waters
The smooth water of the lake opens in silence beneath the bow of the boat. The boat glides over the velvety softness of a Sunday in May The translucent green surface turns blue and white trembling under the rays of the sun charge.
Around the pond, weeping willows and flower girls. Umbrellas and daisies color the banks of pink and white rings. Between the lips of lovers, languid flies slowly smoke a cigar. It makes its way skyward, twisting a time between the branches of willows. Tawny rays appear in the turbid air, staining the pale faces of adolescents. In the center of the lake, indifferent to the fervor surrounding juveniles, retains a cold stillness and calm. Reflecting vaguely flirtations that are played on its banks, its murky waters through the spring with a gravity accuser.
encased in his Sunday best, a clumsy gallant ventures into the water. Under the command of an intriguing colorful train it painfully. Eyes fixed on the dark water, he contemplates with fascination and horror of train that disappears into the black wave. His frail wrist on the other side of aspen stage fright. One false move on his part would condemn to train the poor of darkness uncertain.
Before him, on the other bench, a talkative woman. The reasons for his presence are unclear to date for the rower, whose whole mind is occupied by the amazing mirror of the lake. The weariness of the afternoon will have created an indulgent weakness, temptation entertainment, fun to feel comfortable with a girl ... probably an unfortunate coincidence that the creature cutthroat has the merit to enjoy.
Trying to settle in nicely as carelessly as his frail wooden bench, she enjoyed the distraction of his convict to arrange his casualness, crumpling her skirts with strategy. She adjusts to his throat pure red velvet ribbon, and her bosom throbs beneath a pearl jewelry. The girl cold and powdered, under the caresses of the light from the lake, suddenly begins to glow. Her skin smells fresh and rutile as animal and virginal. Her innocence seems lost in the solitude of this boat, and his lips red bead already the first drops of a poison bold. By inflating his throat she stares at the awkward who walks. Sneak their eyes meet. To make conversation, he mumbles a sentence or two on the spring. It pays no attention. Hardly did he pronounced the girl spreads in a ringing laugh and opulent, rejecting her ringlets over her shoulders. A disenchanted by the instant reaction unlikely caused by his words, the rower plunges his eyes in troubled waters of the lake, and her hand, shaking his arm tightly in his suit, winces again on the train.
The intriguing now talking without interruption and with a lot of excess. Sometimes dramatic, sometimes comic, it pours into the boat a torrent of artificial emotions. His soaring pathetic drown in the silence surrounding. Risking a move out of the boat, the young man, almost turning his back on his passenger, leans overboard for a closer look at the amazing surface. He hold the oar, and when the water freezes around, the water appears in the reflection of her face.
He closes his eyes, opens them again. Something bothers him. He does not recognize, it seemed he was ten years too, the blow contained in the ascot. A false expression is meant for polite gossip girl. This masks the anathema.
He touches his finger to the surface of the water to touch his reflection. None of these new expressions not suit him. It fails to get an honest face. The smile, the look playful, but disappears when the water returns to its immobility.
The silver blade of a river fish through his cheek and loses itself in the mud. The steady stream of intriguing lyrics disturb the clarity of the image. His incessant stirring trouble in her eyes water. An insect fleet now on his left eye. Mechanically he rubs his eyelid. The insect takes its course, the eye is still shaking.
The boat drifted to rest on the other side of the pond. The intriguing strategist ever, enacts enthusiastically that the location is perfect for napping. Pretending to languish further, it extends into the boat while a concert of sensual sighs escaping from his body warning. The declaration of naps, curiously does not calm her initiative, the bottom of the boat with all its members made huge steps. The young man, exhausted by his recent emotions, and happy to finally mingle gallantry and honesty, and fell asleep soon obeyed.
The chatter of ecstasy is indistinct. It certainly speaks with some neighboring planted on the shore or another boat. Eyes half closed, dissolved into the sky, it becomes invisible in the eyes of his passenger. Under the heat of sleep it evaporates. At the option of rocking the boat, the sun's rays are the branches of willows. Their reflection in the water illuminates the underside of leaves. The lake is projected on the sky, the sky is projected on the surface of the lake. It floats somewhere in between.
Between two dreams he opened an eyelid. The boat is empty, he is alone. The white lady bounces a little further on leaves of water lilies. It is pointed out in her skirt above her knees, and his mocking laughter ricochets from the surface of the pond. It is lighter, more unlikely at every step. Carp copper spring water, and grab the flight voices. Mouth full of words, carp satiated discuss them back into the reeds. On the surface then the silence reigns. The young man closes his eyes, the wind blowing over the lake far outweighs him any form of agitation. He imagines off in the gusts girls clinging to their umbrellas, flying over the golden grasslands. Finally a smile on his lips.
His sleep is so deep that it seems to wake her eyelids are glued to each other. A rime hugged her eyelashes and sealed his eyes. Rubbing his eyes with his fist, he managed to take off his eyelids. Around him a whitish mist envelops the countryside. The air he breathes cold white and restores her spirits. The boat is sunk in the lake ice cover, the girl disappeared. Footsteps in the snow, away from the pond. All that remains of her lost a boot, the heel stuck in the ice.
"It must be February. In early March can be. I did not sleep that long. These parts of campaign I was always exhausted. This girl has to speak for months. I knew it would never end. Fortunately she eventually catch cold. It took a fall and winter to calm his fever ... "
Leaning on the side of the boat, he observed the dark ice covering the pond. There is hardly a nap, the surface of the water was disturbed and fragile, fickle. Here it is peaceful and unchanging, smooth and strong.
Under the ice is gradually emerging a world green. Calm and deep, this theater comes to life in silence. Seaweed swaying imperceptibly slow. Contemplative dream fish against each other.
He rubs his hand mirror to better observe the harmonious world. It settles on the surface a warm breath to try to remove frost. On all fours on the ice, he took a silver fish that runs through the grass. Pure ice is there, perfectly transparent. He thought he walked on water, he thought that Fleet also among the reeds. The boundary between water and the air is so thin that silence has crossed the surface. It now fills all the clearing where the pond is sleeping.
On the ice appears his face. More grimace, it is smooth and her features are relaxed. Fingertip he seized the film of ice on which his face is printed. He gently takes off, a moment contemplating his happiness immortalized and is a little further into the snow on the bank.
Another portrait appears in the first, a little younger, a little smoother. He grabs it and puts it beside the first.
One by one, he turns the pages of glossy paper. Under each picture he finds another. The child here on this same lake with her parents here already young man, shirtless in the fields, here as a beautiful woman sad, pensive in a crowd of anonymous people. It
stacked on the bank all these portraits of him. In his enthusiasm, he does not feel the dying day, he does not feel the wind come. Yet already
gusts blowing across the ice, they prevail in flakes light.
photos fly into the snowstorm, and will plant them in the black branches of bare trees of the clearing. Finally rising eyes of the mirror that had hypnotized, he saw off his happiness impaled on dead trees. He rises to catch the icons at risk. But the ice storm refined by breaks under the first step.
Ice water was seized by the throat as two large hands very cold.
He opens his eyes, grabbed the edge of the boat rises out of the water and resumed breathing. The month of May is still there throughout his adolescence. It was only a dream. Standing in the boat, perched on his ridiculous boots, a laugh too familiar burst above him.
"My poor friend, if you do not love you for your clumsiness why would you be? Really, even sleep is not enough to protect you from your awkwardness. So a woman you watch day and night! You are the prey of a nice dream, and you throw into the water to escape him ... Where you run when you need to face the big world? Not far away my dear, because fortunately I'll be there ... "
Clinging to the edge of the boat, he hears sorry, the blank stare, the speech triumphalistic of the intriguing. It is not for him. She throws his words toward the crowd of beautiful people, which stands to enjoy his victory. She did not look. Plated hair at the temples, a seaweed wrapped around his right arm, he was never more grotesque. His blood still chilled by the winter of his dream hits in his fist. He feels his hand release the wet wood of the boat.
Slowly it sinks.
Silence filled his ears. The mocking laughter muffled, the light disappears behind the condemned water lilies. Floating in the calm water of the pond, it unravels the lavaliere which encircles the neck. Happy, he opens his arms and inspires all e he can.
The murky waters rushing into his lungs. Silver fish guide him among the reeds wild. Still a few bubbles escaping from her clothes. A smile he fell asleep.
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