Narciso
« Leonardo, do you know the story of Narcissus? »
Frowning, the artist looks up from his canvas, putting it on the face of mocking Vanessa, posing for him on the wet grass of the countryside.
This time she doesn't bring ribbons in her hair, but small white flowers gathered on the bank of the river during their walk. It was a very rare event because, in the past months, both have had less and less time to devote to themselves.
« He was so caught up looking and praising himself that he drowned in an attempt to kiss his own image »,
Leonardo looks at her, dazed. For a moment, his dark eyes meet Vanessa's dyed the same colour of May sky.
He laughs, shaking his head.
« Don't even try to tease me, Vanessa », he replies, amused, dropping his brushes on the lawn. « I know there are many versions of this myth. According to some, Narcissus would have even committed suicide, tormented by the thought of not being able to love anyone else except himself ».
Vanessa gives him a pedantic look and Leonardo silences.
He was convinced he had forgotten the words that come his to mind in that moment. Harsh words, scratchy phrases, who he vainly hoped to never have to suffer again.
« For you, we are nothing but toys ».
His gaze falls on the wet grass of the lawn, on his live colour, on the raindrops a sun covered by clouds forgot to take away.
« Vanessa ... », Leonardo begins, but he knows that he should stop immediately.
Sooner or later he will have to face that conversation with her, that's for sure, but for the moment he doesn't want to mess up that afternoon for their own.
Thoughtful, he looks at her lying down and turning her gaze to the sky.
« I wonder, Leonardo, what would you do in front of the water », she says, hiding a smile of derision.
He shrugs.
« Well, the creek is not far away », he points out.
Immediately he is put under scrutiny by the shrewd eyes of his friend.
« And would you have the courage to look at your reflection? », she insists immediately.
Leonardo nods a little, biting his lips.
« It would be good for my self-esteem, looking at me now after ten days I spent sleeping two hours a night on my notes », he says, shrugging his shoulders.
Vanessa laughs and with her hand she invites him to lie down next to her, but the artist does not move a step. He stands, instead, looking at her from above. Because who believe that the sky can be seen only by lying down is completely wrong The sky looks much better from the eyes of Vanessa, with her clear laughter, with her smiles.
If he is Narcissus, she is his Echo, the nymph in love with who only has eyes for himself, condemned, like him, to waste her life in eternal attempts to call who doesn't have ears to hear nor heart to answer.