I think men in general are good, kind, intelligent. Actually I like men. I find them attractive, sexy, attractive. I like to listen, I love their voices heard. I like to study the face, eyes and especially the dark circles that have always seemed so interesting. Hair also like to watch me, and hands.
I met many men, good men, such as evergreen trees, bad men, twisted branches. Also small men, shy men, some less timid, some very daring. I've never been afraid of them. And always a weakness for men intellectual, able to talk about books, psychology, spirituality. There was also a time when if a man stroking my dog, to know, gave him an excuse not to see anyone anymore. But as I said, in general I've met good men, men simple, healthy, insightful.
do not know why I think of them today. Will the wind outside? Calling on my door, bringing me memories. Many faces appear to me, Jon, California, David, Toni, of Seattle, Boris, Louis, François ... They are the most important, I have marked. Those who have made me a woman, or rather, those who have allowed me a woman. Poets and architects. That my mother would not understand. My mother would plug his ears and his cheeks enrojecerían, suddenly girl sad and ashamed. But shame of what? Sure, mother, you like it or not these men would have invented. And I was born again and again with them. So.
I have been taught to be strong and to argue, in the rain, under suns and stars. With Jon liked to talk politics and he said I was a frustrated Communist. And frustrated me so much when I said these things, because I a communist I have nothing, do not believe in any political philosophy, do not believe in politicians, politicians disgust me (my my father would be pleased). I just believe in men who do good for others, and there are so few and many, I just believe in a just society that does not exist apart from the interior. And then Jon and I fought so much ... Chillábamos and neighbors thought we pegábamos. Discussed until the small hours of the morning when you wake up the sky and everything is so soft ...
And now Jon where are you? Do you exist? One thing seems incredible, and this all women know it, live it, and perhaps men too: think: I will not be able to live without you, without it, I can not imagine waking up without your body nice and soft and strong like the brightness of the moon in August, at my side, always by my side I do not want a future without your voice, your hands, your mind clear. Yet, a day arrives and we have even forgotten the sweet smell of your skin, this skin so much it hurt, so hurt and so skin breathe Jon, and then Boris, and Toni and others. Who? My many lives.
have not all loved with a passion, not love the same way every time. Jon loved you with an enthusiasm that I got drunk red wine such as Côtes du Rhône intoxicates you, tasting its vigor, refreshing and deep in this man's land, taste the wind on the earth at this man, Jon, the flavor of the land when it rains ...
Every man his space within my inner space, my insides, inside my mind, light, clarity, sometimes dark wells. But I remember the good men that I have contributed something positive, which allowed me to grow and walk in the right direction. Do not, an encounter with the Other? Myself and them.
remember Boris, in Arles a month of September, the month of harvest, abundance, fruit and fruit he was a delightful, joyful. We wanted so hard energy ocher color of autumn, a strong force as the landscape of Provence
But what to do? One will walk in life, my grandmother said when he spoke of my men.
also fell in love with an intellectual of pure wool, and probably my grandmother also had laughed at me for my foolishness. What captivated me was a Master François he made about the dictatorship of Sekou Toure. A man like that ... I told myself. Our relationship did not last long, a few months. And it forces me dragged this man, I was obsessed by his global vision of a political situation, his empathy for the martyrs of one of the toughest and most terrible dictatorships that existed in Africa. I was fascinated by his intelligence and his spirit of adventure in the world of analysis. And his empathy, the men could feel pain, to feel hope, and write about it.
But everything happens, life happens and people go, that my grandmother said stroking his forehead. I remember going home from town to console me and her, its 80 years, was the only one who knew how. It was with this woman of deep wrinkles and beautiful interior with whom my heart is calmed.
Man ... my men, my lovers, my friends, fearsome foes, dragons in my imagination, good and bad dragons. But most importantly if you, my grandmother whispered witch. I never asked a magic potion for men who knew be transformed into princes. It was not necessary as it were, to my eyes. I'm sure had the prescription counter, the grandmother: transform these princes into frogs to leave me alone. Or I them.
Princes, yes, my life, which appeared at the right time, sometimes at the wrong time but it is equally teaching me that not all easily between a man and a woman. Teaches that to be happy is not necessary to live with a man, and if you live with it, learning to differentiate them, to separate to love better, to put aside the silliness of romantic love, to know more and more Women learn to be free, to love my solitude. Love, passion, tenderness, then there is friendship. this and more men in my life taught me. And from here I say thank you.
