Caldeia's World

Words

caldeia — Sun, 22 Jan 2012 12:02:12 +0000

I loved words. I love to sing them and speak them and even now, I must admit, I have fallen into the joy of writing them. — Anne Rice

The piano

caldeia — Sun, 17 Jul 2011 14:13:04 +0000

It was my father who taught me to cook. I was home from school that day, for what reason I can’t remember but my mother was working and my father was at home. We were told by my mother the day before that we should cook pasta and that she had prepared everything else. I had just learnt how to boil rice and told my dad I didn’t need any help.

As I put the pot on the stove I poured in the pasta directly in the water, my father came. He didn’t laugh, but smiled and said calmly that the pasta should be put just when the water boils. I asked why we had to wait that long, then the pasta would never be done by the time my mother comes back from work. I remember looking up to my father while he was explaining, admiring him that he knew so much about so many things. I don’t remember all he told me about pasta, I was busy and concentrated thoughts to admire him.

Another memory I have of my father is when I was about 5 years old. I had this red comfy jumpsuit of velour and my hair was down to my shoulders. I had lost my front tooth when bicycling with the kids from the neighbourhood. I was now standing in front of the piano. In my world, it was big as a whale but I liked it as it could make sounds. I was really stubborn this day and not willing to go to bed as I was told. The melody I was playing was just in my own head and my father who was standing beside me tried to convince me to not hit the piano as hard. I obviously didn’t listen. My father sat down next to me and talked with a soft and slow voice. After a while I did reckon he was actually talking to me. I took one hand of the piano and put it in my mouth, I looked at him like I was ashamed of doing something bad. He told me would play tomorrow, together and perhaps even for a longer time but that it was time to go to bed now. I looked at him, his white wavy hair was shining as always and his moustache ended in small circles on each side of his mouth. His lines were defined by the eyes, my father was a happy man, smiling often and this was shown in the wrinkles around the eyes. His glasses tipped a bit down his nose and his voice was calm and soft. he breathed authority but gave a lot of love. I took away my other hand from the piano and put my arms around his neck and closed my eyes. I felt safe as he lifted me up and stood up him self. Come here you little frog, he said, let’s get you to bed.

no title

caldeia — Sun, 08 May 2011 09:47:26 +0000

she pretended to sleep when he was on his way out. Without opening her eyes she heard him stopping by the door and turning back. She smiled. She knew he would come back. And so he did. He kissed her forehead gently and she put her naked arm around his neck, pulling him back to the heat under the cover. He didn’t protest. The album was still on repeat and still there was one sock missing.

Uniforms

caldeia — Mon, 02 May 2011 22:24:45 +0000

Air was dry but still humidity touched the skin. Many feet, many different shoes covered the white shiny floor. The uniform that he wore was almost brand new. It fitted him perfectly even though he seemed to be misplaced in the corner where he stood. People around him were quiet as the people further out from him were more relaxed and chatty. If this was due to his presence he couldn’t say. He was nervous. The face he’d put on was calm and strict but not emotional in any way. It just was.

Nevertheless no one could feel his palms getting really warm and then turn in to perspiration. He squeezed his hands rather than dry them on his pants. He didn’t want anyone to notice. He was thinking about his family, whom he had left crying by the departures hall and who had waved to him while he passed security. He felt like a boy not wanting to leave them. He’d also never felt this much of an adult, seeing the respect the security guys gave him and the silence of respect people around surrounded him with. He was twisted but probably more scared than anything else.

He didn’t know what was awaiting him. He didn’t know what it looked like over there. he didn’t know anyone. He just knew he did this to be proud and for someone. He couldn’t remember who this someone was right now. Was it his parents or his future captain? Or was it to be received at home in 8 months as a hero? Yeah that was it. He was going away with sweat on his hands in order to become a hero. But what was it actually that he was to do? What do you do to become a hero? His mind speeded up the thoughts.

She turned her sight to him, noticing the difference he made of the crowed. He catched his eyes immediately and she exchanged a warm look with him. Then she saw his uniform and her look changed, her eyes narrowed and her faced was stoned. It was like she was turning in to a statue. Not being able to move. Her eyes found his again and she gave him a look that was more as an apology than excitement. he couldn’t read this.

Boarding started and people started to get up from the chairs. He was already standing and he had not left his eyes from the girl. It was his last chance to either be a boy or a man. Either he’d face the truth right here and now or he would do it once facing his destination. He had the uniform and the moustache but the inside of the costume was the one of a lost boy getting lost in a world he’d never be able to picture beforehand. He was lost once he stepped in to that plane and someone already knew it. He walked and was almost next to the girl.

Passion

caldeia — Thu, 07 Apr 2011 21:17:46 +0000

his kisses were like the rain, wet. They got in to places which were supposed to be hidden. only to stay and get through the skin, making the body shiver. wet. Cold. Clothes getting heavy, gravity pulling, winning. Earth shaking, summer was arriving. Sun burning the skin. Surface suffocating of his breath. Passion.

Words

caldeia — Mon, 21 Mar 2011 23:15:20 +0000

… she was longing for his words, just like she would for water in the desert. It was unbearable. His letters were an addiction that was impossible to control. Only he could solve that issue. But he was doing nothing and this was bringing her to a slow death. The words. Unspoken. Unwritten. The words were his weapon and he had just stared a war against her…

Streets and daylight

caldeia — Tue, 15 Mar 2011 16:53:04 +0000

It as just impossible to walk on that street. It wasn’t the noise neither the people staring at her. She just had to get out of there and that fast. But it was more or less impossible, the streets had more history than anything else in the city. Not only had she been gone for too long but now she had been here for too long as well. It didn’t feel good or developing at all.

Just a week ago she had been walking on other streets in another city. On the other side of the world. The streets were talking to her but not in a calm sense anymore, they were starting to become aggressive. Get out! Get off my street! You don’t belong here. She walked faster but it didn’t help. The noise became louder and louder. Once she had been walking on those same streets and been a calm and happy person. She had been so little then that the streets had seem huge. They played with her then, talking to her, making her laugh some times then making her cry other times when she had been too close to them. But she had liked it. Or rather, she hadn’t been reflecting upon it.

At some time she had found the streets very calming, giving her peace in a world where she could find none. Giving answers when the questions were too many and too difficult. Soothing her when she was able to cry and also pushing her to get out. However they had become more aggressive and almost pushing her out of the street lately.

She had been starting to look around her, the surroundings hitting her eyes were disappointing for her. They were gray and not talking at all. She tried once to communicate and to really listen but they gave no voice. She already knew by then that she had to change them. Change the surroundings and change the streets.

Now she had been travelling for a whole day and was on a street that was familiar. She had been walking here many times and the street welcomed her. They reminded her of her stories, of the pictures, of the people. The people. A pain went through her heart. They were all gone now. And also a piece of her heart had left. This street was powerful, it had a familiar smell of coffee and garbage. Nevertheless the light was what made it so beautiful.

The light also reminded her of that perfect face. Slightly suntanned, framed with curly brown hair and dimples. Gorgeous. So warm and welcoming and full of story. She stopped her walk just to fully remind herself all those moments and memories. Her heart had been pumping so hard at that time that she thought it would crash through her bones and escape from her body. A wonderful feeling until it actually exploded and stayed inside her. The pain had been impossible to handle but day by day it had been disappearing. Now there were just the small pieces left and they were out in the daylight of this street.

High heels

caldeia — Sun, 13 Feb 2011 18:38:33 +0000

She staggered out on the dark street with a bottle vodka in her hand. The dark make up had moved downwards on her pale face and created dark lines under her eyes. 12cm high heels made her look even skinnier than she already was and the short skirt was just about covering the most important parts of her lower body. In the foggy light her legs shimmered in golden brown and muscles revealed she had been walking far in those heels.

The vodka bottle was almost full as she hold it straight up and drank a mouth full without moving a nerve in the face. The only thing revealing it wasn’t water in the bottle was her unbalanced walk. Her hair was like a nest, curls had fallen down from the back of her head and covered some of her angular face. She was beautiful, even behind the messy surface and the bad lightning of the street. A higher class of prostitute even one could say.

She started walking to the right but stopped just after a few feet, holding up the bottle again and then looking for something in her bag. While looking through her purse she had staggered a few steps without noticing and after a while she held up a white package of cigarettes. She seemed to breathe out loudly as in a relief. There were only a few cigarettes left in the box and she somehow managed to get one out while still holding the bottle in the other hand. She threw the package back in the bag and pulled out a lighter from a small pocket of her skirt. While the fire was going from a light blue flame to clear golden-yellow, her eyes narrowed as the heat become stronger and the cigarette left a stray of smoke touching her face. Her chest showed the slow speed of her breath and she stood still for once, really enjoying the white smoke.

A car passed by at the end of the other street but she didn’t even bother looking at it. She was focusing at her cigarette, as if life was about to be taken away from her any second and this was the only pleasure she could have before that dark moment. To make the moment even better she swept some vodka down her throat once in a while. It was to disappear just as the cigarette. Suddenly she turned her face towards the sky. First with no face reaction but then her lips turned in to amusement and a smile. However, her body couldn’t balance all these pleasures and she staggered again, drawing her sight to the ground to focus. That’s when she turned her eyes towards me. At first she just looked and my heart jumped a beat and my breath stopped. I was hoping she was too drunk to recall but her focus was fierce. All noise around me disappeared and I could only hear my heart beating, loudly, pumping more blood than my body could take at the moment. I quickly wondered if I would be dizzy just like the last time but i didn’t have time to finish that thought until she had reached my car. I was hidden in the dark but the lamppost in front of the car was all hers now. Even in the dark she found my eyes and started smiling as she threw away the cigarette, left it burning on the cracked pavement.

My body was aching of excitement and adrenalin and the heart was soon to leave me. This wasn’t good. Nothing about the situation was good. I couldn’t stop but stare at her, a body of wonder, slim, but with the right curves. The darkness made its best to mystify her drunken body language. She had now put the handbag on her shoulder and was passing by the front of my car, while she stroke the dusty silver paint of my car and reached the window. I focused for a second, taking a deep breath before opening the old window. I could smell her breath of alcohol immediately and I had pulled down the entire window she smiled and exhaled a “Hi baby”. I held my hands in the darkness of the car, looked up at her face and smiled. “Hi”. She was now leaning over the window and had her head almost inside the car and whispered slowly “so, you wanna go for a ride gorgeous?” Her white smile dazzled my sight and knocked out the reason in me. “Sure” I answered even though my head was screaming to me to not invite her. She bit her underlip as she pulled herself out of the window and slowly went to the back of the car to get to the other side.

I wasn’t even thinking of what I was doing, the excitement in my whole body was screaming and wanted to get out. By the time she had walked round my car and opened the old door to the passenger seat I had taken off my wedding ring and put it in my pocket in the jacket. This was going to be the last time I promised myself.

I forgot

caldeia — Wed, 09 Feb 2011 22:46:25 +0000

The chest was raising and lowering every second. There was a pain in my right chest that I really couldn’t identify. It was annoying and wouldn’t go away. I took an even deeper breath but it didn’t help at all. It just got blurry in front of my eyes instead. I felt helpless, empty and very little. Not much of life going on, just that horrible speed breathing and the pain in the chest that wouldn’t leave. Not even with all the tears coming from my eyes did it vanish or decrease.

Worst part was that I wasn’t attacked by a shark or anything. I was just on the highway driving when I felt it coming. Breathing heavily and starting to feel very unfocused on the road ahead. Thinking what might have caused it. Again. But it had now been lots of time since the last time. I went through my day and as I got to the afternoon the tears started piling up in front of me and by the time i’ve reached evening, I had to stop the car on the first parking lot. Once the car was still, I had already turned it off, just out of safety because I couldn’t see anymore. My vision had disappeared in the rain that was in front of me and all the feelings inside of me. I suddenly stumbled over the thing that made me feel the absolute worst. Going through my day was fairly easy as not much happened during the day. In the afternoon I got loads of work at the office and had to dig in to it to even try to prioritize, but just a few hours ago was what had crashed the whole day. The pain in my chest had now escalated and there was no border of how far the tears would reach. My only thought was that I had to call someone. I needed to call someone. I needed to hear someone talking in order to be relieved. But as I took my phone from the bag and opened my contacts, I realised that there was only one person, one number that could save me. It was the number, out of all in my list, that I couldn’t call. I couldn’t call you. Sorry, I forgot, you don’t need me anymore.

Would you

caldeia — Fri, 04 Feb 2011 12:38:26 +0000

Would you touch the moon

if you could?

Surrender the stars

pack them together and send them out.

Never alone

always shining

Would you capture the sun’s

light

if you could

grasp it in your palm

give it heat

instead of being heated.

Letting it transduce you

into a shining

bright light.

Never to stop glowing

always shining.

Would you touch my heart

if you could have it

all,

in your hand

like a glowing flower

spreading life all around.

Would you?

- M. Stojanovic