what I see

Evening.
It’s getting dark.

I see a girl.

I am holding a camera, filming the girl.

She is running up a hill, eager to get to the top, to the cliff as fast as she can and watch the dramatic waves create a gray pattern in the landscape. As far as she can see there will be shades of gray; almost white, almost black. Also a shade right in between almost white and almost black.

She is running like crazy, looking back once in a while, smiling. And as her long, white dress gets in the way she lifts it up and uncovers her pale legs. The wind penetrates her skin like thousands of needles.

She runs faster. And faster. And I keep up with her, looking straight in her eyes through the camera every time she turns around. She doesn’t even slow down. She is soaked in rain and appears to be thankful. Her hair is all messed up, her cheeks blossoming red and in her eyes, there is a gaze, a hint of a story she is dying to tell.

We reach the top. She looks back. At me. At the green, intensely green hill. Smiles. Awaits. Lets the green and gray get mixed up in her sight before she close her eyes and lets herself fall down the cliff. Smiling like I’ve never seen her smile before.

 

——————————————————

This is what I see when I listen to this song:

Las Vecinas -variacion – Banda sonora de ALBERTO IGLESIAS