"We are living in a material world, and I am a material girl." Her voice
raised with the last note, and she stood up once more, strutting away, and
out of my life.
Some people don't believe in love at first site... and I didn't, but as The Sparkling Diamond singled me out of the crowd, crouching over my body, her cleavage only inches away from my face, I fell in love. Not with her body, although it may seem that way. But with her eyes. I can't even remember their colour now but, they seem to have that effect on people. More to the point, her eyes were sad, and lonely, much to the contrary of her movements.. she moved with grace, and confidence.. but her eyes, almost hollow, but still deep with meaning.
She was not your average courtesan, your average whore. She was something more. she was someone. I imagine she had hopes, and dreams. I could save her, but I'd have to buy my way into her chambers, not to make love to her, just to get her alone, talk to her. Alas, I had no money, I was only a homeless man, swept up by the bohemian revolution. I couldn't even write, or sing, but I could draw. I wanted to draw the lithe creature that was crouched above me, but before I could take a mental photograph, she was gone. Taking diamonds from the rich old men. My friends grasped my arms, smiling and telling me I was incredibly lucky.. if they only knew..
I vowed I would save my money, I would by my way to her quarters, then tell her I under stood.. hoping I truly did. Deep inside I knew it meant nothing when she found an attractive young man to dance with, he didn't understand.. no one did. I know I sound like a love sick fool but, perhaps I was. I knew I wasn't so attractive, or suave, and I had a harsh, American accent, but I knew deep inside I could make her love me. The other dancers, their eyes were like that of a predators, malicious and hungry, unforgiving.
Eyes tell so much, and I've been granted with the gift of reading them. Perhaps I'm lucky.. but because of that I can't bring my self to look in the mirror. I'm afraid at what my eyes are telling people. Maybe of my severe loneliness, or depression. People tell me I have pretty eyes, but they are to be my demise. Weeks have passed since I first visited the Moulin Rouge, when the Sparkling Diamond first singled me out of a crowd, to tease. I don't even know her name, since I assume no parent would be naming their child Sparkling. The green fairy gives me comfort, on my cold nights alone. The Moulin Rouge is closing for renovations tomorrow. They are going to turn it into a theatre, with the Sparkling diamond as the star. I've heard it's to be a bohemian spectacular, set in India. The writer is supposedly a genius.
I've saved money to see her, but it is seemingly useless now, she practices her part, not taking any visitors. She is also supposedly involved with a Duke.. perhaps she is not different. Only in it for the money, the thrills. But eyes do not lie. She knows what she's doing. The only use I have form my money is to buy a ticket to her play. A worth while investment, considering it's publicity.
So that's what I spent my hard earned money on. Although my seat off to the far right, I was still anticipating the event. It was my last chance to prove to my self it's just an infatuation, she is not really a person, merely a shell of a girl. But her eyes. They were not expression less, the more I think about it, the more people I notice have blank eyes. Walking though the streets, I'm haunted by soulless gazes. even the predatorily glare of the diamond dogs is more reassuring. At least there is something in there, even if it's a demon. Why I worry about demons I don't know, I have no religion, and need none. I just need answers.
Eventually that day came, months later the show opened. Spectacular, Spectacular. I took my seat, which to my luck, was not as bad as I had anticipated. I waited patiently for the show to start, twiddling my thumbs, think to my self about bohemian proverbs. The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return. A quote I heard from I friend, who had claimed it was a line from the show. The writer was a genius. Every minute seemed like an hour, and finally the curtains opened. Sapphire lights drenched the set, and the girls who had once donned garters and fishnets, were now dressed as Indian courtesans, much more sophisticated then those of France.
After a short dance routine, there she was, the Sparkling Diamond.
"Kiss... hand... Diamonds... best friend..."
Her dancing was so slow, sensual. It was like she was making love with her movements. I knew she had achieved something better then selling herself, she could sing, and dance, and god could she act. She didn't need me. I had to accept that. And I would learn to accept it over time. I couldn't go on obsessing over this woman I know nothing about. I had to accept we led different lives. At that moment, I got up, leaving the Moulin Rouge for ever, pausing only to apologize for stepping on someone's toes.
I don't know what happened to the Sparkling Diamond, but I hope she is happy with her Duke.
Some people don't believe in love at first site... and I didn't, but as The Sparkling Diamond singled me out of the crowd, crouching over my body, her cleavage only inches away from my face, I fell in love. Not with her body, although it may seem that way. But with her eyes. I can't even remember their colour now but, they seem to have that effect on people. More to the point, her eyes were sad, and lonely, much to the contrary of her movements.. she moved with grace, and confidence.. but her eyes, almost hollow, but still deep with meaning.
She was not your average courtesan, your average whore. She was something more. she was someone. I imagine she had hopes, and dreams. I could save her, but I'd have to buy my way into her chambers, not to make love to her, just to get her alone, talk to her. Alas, I had no money, I was only a homeless man, swept up by the bohemian revolution. I couldn't even write, or sing, but I could draw. I wanted to draw the lithe creature that was crouched above me, but before I could take a mental photograph, she was gone. Taking diamonds from the rich old men. My friends grasped my arms, smiling and telling me I was incredibly lucky.. if they only knew..
I vowed I would save my money, I would by my way to her quarters, then tell her I under stood.. hoping I truly did. Deep inside I knew it meant nothing when she found an attractive young man to dance with, he didn't understand.. no one did. I know I sound like a love sick fool but, perhaps I was. I knew I wasn't so attractive, or suave, and I had a harsh, American accent, but I knew deep inside I could make her love me. The other dancers, their eyes were like that of a predators, malicious and hungry, unforgiving.
Eyes tell so much, and I've been granted with the gift of reading them. Perhaps I'm lucky.. but because of that I can't bring my self to look in the mirror. I'm afraid at what my eyes are telling people. Maybe of my severe loneliness, or depression. People tell me I have pretty eyes, but they are to be my demise. Weeks have passed since I first visited the Moulin Rouge, when the Sparkling Diamond first singled me out of a crowd, to tease. I don't even know her name, since I assume no parent would be naming their child Sparkling. The green fairy gives me comfort, on my cold nights alone. The Moulin Rouge is closing for renovations tomorrow. They are going to turn it into a theatre, with the Sparkling diamond as the star. I've heard it's to be a bohemian spectacular, set in India. The writer is supposedly a genius.
I've saved money to see her, but it is seemingly useless now, she practices her part, not taking any visitors. She is also supposedly involved with a Duke.. perhaps she is not different. Only in it for the money, the thrills. But eyes do not lie. She knows what she's doing. The only use I have form my money is to buy a ticket to her play. A worth while investment, considering it's publicity.
So that's what I spent my hard earned money on. Although my seat off to the far right, I was still anticipating the event. It was my last chance to prove to my self it's just an infatuation, she is not really a person, merely a shell of a girl. But her eyes. They were not expression less, the more I think about it, the more people I notice have blank eyes. Walking though the streets, I'm haunted by soulless gazes. even the predatorily glare of the diamond dogs is more reassuring. At least there is something in there, even if it's a demon. Why I worry about demons I don't know, I have no religion, and need none. I just need answers.
Eventually that day came, months later the show opened. Spectacular, Spectacular. I took my seat, which to my luck, was not as bad as I had anticipated. I waited patiently for the show to start, twiddling my thumbs, think to my self about bohemian proverbs. The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return. A quote I heard from I friend, who had claimed it was a line from the show. The writer was a genius. Every minute seemed like an hour, and finally the curtains opened. Sapphire lights drenched the set, and the girls who had once donned garters and fishnets, were now dressed as Indian courtesans, much more sophisticated then those of France.
After a short dance routine, there she was, the Sparkling Diamond.
"Kiss... hand... Diamonds... best friend..."
Her dancing was so slow, sensual. It was like she was making love with her movements. I knew she had achieved something better then selling herself, she could sing, and dance, and god could she act. She didn't need me. I had to accept that. And I would learn to accept it over time. I couldn't go on obsessing over this woman I know nothing about. I had to accept we led different lives. At that moment, I got up, leaving the Moulin Rouge for ever, pausing only to apologize for stepping on someone's toes.
I don't know what happened to the Sparkling Diamond, but I hope she is happy with her Duke.