It's 1a.m and I'm still awake listening to Jazz and smoking, while waving Tallinn a good night through an opaque haze of smoke. The shrill horns of Jazz hooks quietly mutter behind me, echoing out of the apartment and seeping into the street, dampened by laughter and impulsive scats from little arched lips. A swing-bop that you wish every passer-by would hop along to and appreciate. Yet they don't. They just pass by, and gawk with repulsion at a shabby old rag on a windowsill; save for a young girl who waves and smiles at me. She’s a classic culture-fox, an intellect of the arts, wearing a black cardigan with a matching scarf that the wind carries with an elegant flow, and flat-sole shoes that softly echo throughout the cobbled street. She brushes her long, neatly unkempt hair behind her ear, and then grins timidly as her eye glistens in the moonlight, like tiny drops of pearls in sparkling water. She walks slowly with the swing, perfectly in sync with the gentle patter of cymbals and sax fluidity, flowing as one continuous line of rays and waves. The stars beam upon her between twinkling streetlights, and floaty, thin clouds. She bows her head and her small black beret slips back slightly, as the wind calmly whistles through cracked floors and narrow alleyways. She looks towards her feet while anxiously aware of me staring at her. I can feel her warm breath on my parched lips, even though she’s in the street beneath my worn feet, as they hang over the window ledge. She knows what Jazz means to a person, and what it means to sit by an open window and watch the people pass by with a cigarette and a whimsical charm. I return the wave and a sad smile before she turns the corner; knowing I wouldn't meet her, or be able to talk to her unless judgment dictated otherwise. Go after her, Morgan. Go after her through these rickety streets, with hookers waving through windows and peddlers lurking the night square. This may be the only form of culture you may experience in this bleak and shifty city. Go after her. Go forth down the marble stairs, and break open the gate: the gate stopping you from doing anything and everything. This is your moment, and it’s waiting on someone else’s. Seize what you can, Morgan. You may not get another chance. And with too much thinking, pondering the absence of the girl, I slowly succumb to logic. I pry myself from the hands of desperation and desolation and wish on that moment I could have stopped that girl just for one small word; for just one small kiss. One small minute so I could’ve spread my gentleman-like wings and treat a woman how she is supposed to be treated: as a women. I’ll see her again. -L.A.Matthews
That's it! That's pumping up words to make them more pumpy! Nice one Sentient. Nice story BTW LA, but it needs more spelling mistakes to make it more authentic. Try writing it after a few Stellas next time.
Why did I get the impression this was set in Hong Kong or Thailand when I first read it? I dont know either but re-reading it makes better sense now. It is a well written story. but because you appreciated my little attempt at humour heres a nice picture
Try pumping up the word good, Hungry Joe. That was goooooood. Unless you want it to be gooooooooooooooood, or just goooood.
I think they mean good is a bit dowdy compared to GOOD good = nonchalantly good GOOD = Interestingly good I have read more of your work, L.A. , and I have to say you are a very good writer, have you had anything published or won any competitions with it? If not you should set out to try that.
That was wonderful, it definitely resonated with me. Last year we spent a great deal of the summer in Vieux Quebec and I often lived your story.
What a cute picture ! Is the guys shirt made by Yve Saint Lauren? Some kind of modern fabric that looks like skin?
I painted boobs on him, then I felt him up. I had to delete the one where I grabbed his tush, he didn't want to be flaunted on the web, hehe
i fucking love that girl... how many times i let her walk away.... man, just awesome, not only did u express it, but had something to express. a rare combination in writing i have never been able to achieve... bloody great, for all of us, next time i see that girl, i will certainly stop her... who am i kidding, every night she walks by, every night we watch and let our minds take over... ure words r certainly gunna come to mind wen this story happens again, or at least ure name...
wait, there was no wine in this story...WHERES THE WINE?!?! i really could go for a nice jug of the good stuff right now, ohhh i need my fix...
