There is more than one way to tell a tale...
 |
| A ladder of light. |
One evening, I found myself in the middle of a lively fandango with a sprightly lass half my age. A polite Lothario can be an inoffensive Casanova. She clicked her castanets in contrapuntal time as we reeled to the guitar player’s tune. Out of breath by song’s end, I left her to continue with gentlemen closer to her age. I shared a bottle of sherry with my wife of many years. It is funny how the night moves.
In the still, quiet moments after the rest of the world is asleep, Rick Perry, who requested his real name not be used, sits at his desk in the light of his Nova Escalier Table Lamp. One thing leads to another. An adventure leads to fond recollection. It is a writer’s world when all is said and done, even if what is written is no more than a diary. Ask Samuel Pepys. How you live depends on how you shape your life. It isn’t only smoke that makes a staircase for you to ascend, it is how lightly you enter and exit your dreams. Theories must be tested through practice.
Every day, like every life, has its own rhythm. Rick Perry (not his real name) lives contentedly, within the bounds of his private aspirations. Like any earnest lover, he has an object of his chivalric affections. Her name is Norma, and she is as plain a Jane as you ever have seen. To him, she is the most beautiful woman in the world. She looks lovely in lamplight.
I’ve danced with Norma more than once. She is not a coquette, but she doesn’t mind an amiable fandango with a harmless gentleman whose wife is watching with mindful measure. Norma's eyes are as fetching as brushed nickel illuminated by one-hundred-watt bulbs. Her eyes especially sparkle when Rick Perry (not his real name) enters the room.
Every lamp has a story, and the Nova Escalier Table Lamp is no exception. Of such things, dreams are made. It is funny how the night moves.
No comments:
Post a Comment