He felt her like the most intimate fold on his body. Like the realization of what has been conceived, like something that you cannot translate into words. Somewhere under his heart she was lying, like a small miniature of this real one. He remembered her, close, dear, closer than his heart, somewhere on his bones, in the hiding places of knowledge of her, even before they met. Something so simple, clear, without a language, without words, just understandable, with eyesight, with skin, with ears. Being direct, with all her drawbacks, she was closer and dearer than anyone else - some beauty from a cover. Because she had this warmth, this soul,so earthly, and so feminine. Naked essence, taken unawares. Balance loss. Here she is, the real. How it hurts, and how sweet this is. And so, she made it up to him. She made this push on him. She understood what women understand from childbirth - the effort is hers, it’s she who must act.
Only this way, and no other way, a man and a woman meet.
Only this way, and no other way, a man and a woman meet.
