She had small, dark, intriguing eyes of someone endowed with strong personality. The nose of just the right size, fine
cheekbones and cute lips – I’ve seen such lips in Romania before, but not in
Germany. The French have nice lips too, but in a different way. French lips are
muscled – that’s from years of pronouncing their vowels, but not always of a
nice shape. Sometimes they are just full, that’s it. The French lips are full of vowels, but hers
weren’t. Her language was full of consonants. And her lips - full of character, but rather child-like in
their size.
She finished her first bottle of red wine
(it may sound big, but you know, this was one of the airplane-size-wines),
which gently stained her lips. When the stewardess asked her “Would you like
some coffee or tea?” she simply ordered another bottle. I wanted to start a
conversation with her, because she reminded me of someone. I couldn’t remember
directly of whom, but that must have been someone I liked. My brain
automatically associated this type of eyes with goodness. It’s funny how that
works. She might just as well be a very nasty person, but I assumed she wasn’t
because she reminded me of someone else, someone indefinite but definitely
good. - You’ll get completely drunk before the plane lands. – I said, and immediately thought I might have sounded patronizing, without having the intention.
- No, it’s just that the flight goes much quicker in this way. And I still have a long way to go. – she explained, composed, showing no emotion.
And instead of getting drunk before the plane lands, we just continued the conversation. She had an easiness of talking, her words flew swiftly, and while she spoke I looked at her eyes and followed the movement of her lips.
If I was a man, I would have been
enchanted, because this girl was out of the ordinary. She was subtle, intelligent and calm. Her
beauty was not dazzling, but one that gets to you gradually. First there were
the eyes, then the lips, then the elegant shape of her face, framed with hazel
hair. Her personality wasn’t flashy either: everything she said sounded
reasonable, but she was out of the ordinary in her calm, composed manner. In
her slight accent and intriguing intonation in English. Maybe that’s the reason
she sounded calm, as her phrases didn’t raise with enthusiasm or fall with
doubt. She wasn’t excessive in her gestures, she was a kind of girl that you’d
really like to have as a flight companion: not imposing their presence, but
eager to talk when invited. I remember the advice a colleague of mine gave me
just the day before : “Listen more than you speak” and wondered if I wasn’t
overwhelming her with my questions.
I wanted to tell her
she was beautiful, clever and interesting. If she was a man, she would have
taken it as an invitation to have sex (see book “What men think about when they
don’t think about sex” – such book really exists, but its pages are blank). Fortunately
she wasn’t, and the only thing our conversation had to do with sex was that she’d
read “Middlesex” by Jeffrey Eugenides, and strongly recommended it to me.
Before I left the plane she reminded me,
without knowing that of course, whose eyes these were. She introduced herself.
She had the same name as my school girlfriend, a very kind-hearted spirit.
I didn’t tell it to her then, but I’m doing
it now “You’re beautiful, clever and interesting. I’ll certainly read that book.”
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