Moments of perfection are so few and far beyond, like a bag of rare diamonds we clasp them close, contented in the knowledge that they will last for ever, if not in a physical state then we shall cherish and enshrine them in our memories.
The light of the setting sun cast long shadows along the pock marked wall. Christen sat at the type writer trying to cajole a story from the restraining keys. Idly he thought about taluses offer of a "night you would remember" how pointless and farcical it all seemed. He hade come to momatre to write. Not just about what life would brinng him here. Love. To write about love as it had never been written, not the physical love of erotic memoires but love that would conker the soul and start a riot in the hart. Yet all he had managed was a few lines about moments of perfection. Did any of the great writers write about seconds of purity or was he the defuncked product of an uncreative house hold doomed to roam the earth with nothing more than a few limericks to adhere to some minor fame.
A painful longing swept over him as he stared over the roof tops of momatra, a story would not come. The tale remained unspun. And as he gazed out over the golden drenched town, he began to wonder. What did lurk in the hidden always. What joys might remain undiscovered if he sat he in this cesspit of a room.
Filled with a creative joy he lept from his chair by the window and made for the door.
Out in the corridor broken bottles of absinth lay stroon on the floor. With nimble feet he skirted the obstacles and headed for the world out side. By god what a world it was. Steep roads led to leafy streets witch intern lead to the hubbub of the main square.
Slowly the flame that had lept up in christens hart had begun to dim. What was he doing here. What rite had he to abandon every obligation that he had been entrusted to by his farther.
"Hello stranger" a voice lased with silk called over. Christen turned to the recipient of the voice. Tristan had never seen anyone like her. A face of ivory, her perfect nose gracefully arched from her face. Piercing blue eyes met his own.
Shocked at first by her angelic features he took in the rest of her body, noticing the swell of her sensual breasts. Shocked at his own straying eyes he averted his gaze.
"Do I know you?" he timidly replied
"No but why don't we get to know each other better?"
Her voices was well educated English with a hint of something slightly cosmopolitan
"It will only cost you 50 franks"
Arr mutton sheds its lamb disguise.
"Sorry I'm not really into love for money"
"Who said love had anything to do with it?"