Soundtrack Thelonious Monk, Title: Sweetheart Of All My Dreams.

The power of fiction

Image, a woman that whispers good morning in your ears when you wake up. A woman with a pretty voice and a nice face to look at. Her sparkling eyes, can we see any pain in there? No, it’s not showing, she smiles sweetly. Any time willing to make you feel at ease with yourself. Loves making love to you.

She is strong, has a solid personality, consistent, she’s cool, collected and together. Does not care about jewelry, diamond rings and golden necklaces. Talks smoothly, has a Shakespearian vocabulary at her disposal, she contemplates casually on philosophical matters, such as the meaning and meaninglessness of life. She knows the conceptual idea of thesis, antithesis, synthesis. She loves art and adores the colors of Rothko. And she likes to read  books, understands poetry, prefers  Russian Literature, she can laugh about the grotesque story ‘Heart of a dog’  by Michael Bulgakov, which contains bitter satire but is funny too.

With the dedication of a nurse, like a mother she holds your hand in troubled times. When you are for whatever reason on the edge of despair, don’t panic, because she is there for you and she will fix it, as angles do.

If she had any experience’s with tragedy, something bad and nasty that has happen in her life, she would not let it effect her afterwards. Because there’s always that smile, always that sweetness, always her beauty that enlights us, we men, horny apes in the dark, with our brains activated by the forceful machine of our libido.

But seriously, the woman I described here (maliciously), do you think she really exist? I don’t think so, she is just not real, the goddess is pure fictional, she’s actually a sick joke, product of my cynical fantasy.