“I believe this. When we meet those we fall in love with, there is an aspect of our spirit that is historian, a bit of a pedant who reminisces or remembers a meeting when the other has passed by innocently…but all parts of the body must be ready for the other, all atoms must jump in one direction for desire to occur.”
– Michael Ondaatje, ‘The English Patient’.
I bathed in moonlight and scented myself in the night. I dressed ritually, as if for a wedding or some other rite of passage. Finally, soothed, prepared, cloaked to absorb some of my unseemly iridescence, I enter the scene. I know this is the right place and moment. My glance takes in the room mentally checking my celestial clock… right on time. I see him glance up and smell the air. I pass through the room lyrically dancing between the press of swaying intoxicated bodies, smiling knowingly and with warning at the men attempting to intercept my path. They fall away hearts pounding as they watch me move beyond them. You feel my approach turning as I confidently pause. We have not yet entered each others proximity but you know. Your hazel yellow eyes widen and your cloak deepens as you extend a hand. I meet your gaze with my impossible blue eyes as I take your hand I let my cloak fall before you. Lifetimes of faces dance between us as you devilishly smile. Yes you remember me; I have found you once again. My hair still echoes my movement, such little real time has passed. Laughing deeply you take in my smile and offer me a drink. More devil than human you hope to diminish my angelic charm. We have danced this night a thousand times, a thousand different ways, perhaps tonight we might get it right? With a gleam in my eye I reply, “I’ll have an Angel’s Delight.”