He laughed. His whole face lit up from the inside, as if someone had lit a
candle behind his skin. In one wild moment he was so beautiful, it made my
chest ache. But it wasn’t a beauty that made me want to touch it. I remembered
a Bengal tiger that I’d seen once in a zoo. It was big enough to ride on like a
pony. Its fur was orange, black, cream, oyster-shell white. Its eyes were gold.
The heavy paws wider than my outspread hand paced, paced, back and forth,
back and forth, until it had worn a path in the dirt. Some genius had put one
barred wall so close to the fence that held back the crowd, I could have reached
through and touched the tiger easily. I had to ball my hands into fists and shove
them in my pockets to keep from reaching through those bars and petting that
tiger. It was so close, so beautiful, so wild, so . . . tempting.
I hugged my knees to my chest, hands clasped tight together. The tiger
would have taken my hand off, and yet there was that small part of me that
regretted not reaching through the bars. I watched Jean-Claude’s face, felt his
laughter like velvet running down my spine. Would part of me always wonder
what it would have been like if I had just said yes? Probably. But I could live
with it.

Blue eyed Tiger


About itanadean

Sta bih mogla da vam kazem o sebi? Da procitate pripovetku o Izvanzemaljki Izi. Pisana iz perspektive mog prijatelja, i ja sam bila iznenadjena gledajuci se kroz oci sveta... ali nista nije promenilo, to sta drugi ljudi misle o meni se mene savrseno ne tice. Tice me se Kosmos, Put, Dusa, ljubav, umetnost, odnosi medju ljudima, alhemija, magija, okultno, DNK nauka, i svi neobicni, posebni ljudi s kojima imam cast da delim Vreme zivotnog puta.
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