Thursday, February 5, 2009

The Son of The Flower Lady.

He came from the country side. He was simple, warm and open. [Hello, world! I'm Yours!] And shining.
Shining whenever she smiled, she laughed, she looked.
But they were just friends. Under certain circumstances. She broke up, he didn't start yet. That's how it was. Just flowers left.
They usually met after school. Making round tours in familiar well-known places, passing the same crapy shops, where you can buy cheap beer and cigarettes, even if you're under 18 [and they were], fields full of frozen dogs' shit mines. It was winter 2004. It was cold. But still they met. Always at the same meeting point, always the same flowers. Red roses.
They were both looking for essence of life. They were both dreamers. Both lovers of beauty. Both somewhat outcasted. The king and queen of outcasted teens...
Graduation day came. She could hardly speak, when he appeared with the biggest rose she ever saw in her outcasted life. A bit seared. But still white. Like his feelings - a bit seared, but sincere.. the untouched beauty.
Years past by. They met again in another city. They both became students. So brave and so passionated about this life. No regrets.
They partied a lot. With great amount of boyfriends and girlfriends. Doing crazy things and less planning. Night walks and dancing on small, charming bridges of small, charming towns in sounds of imaginary music and plenty of emptied bottles of cheap wine, while the wind was blowing heart-shaped clouds under the painted sky.
Big plans to change the world and make it better place. Bob Sinclar and Junior Jack. It's all about love generation in stupid disco. Flowers remained. Silent.
His dream was to be a DJ. To have big head-phones and to hear the scrach of vinyl plate, mixing summer jam with blues of 60-ties... and seeing happy people. Dancing people... whole night long. On small, charming bridges or either on the dancefloors... And he did it. Despite of global economical crisis and depressing motions... enjoyed imaginary bed of roses. In new colors. And still does. This was the story about Son of The Flower Lady. To be continued...

Every human is invited here in this world with the purpose. Create your own. And follow...