I sat down awkwardly perfect and met eyes with the Women beside me. With my eyes still and stolidly fixed on hers, I blinked heavily with arrogance to let her know I was a bigot, and clearly thought myself as royalty. Her mouth then opened, spitting out an abhorrent sound. Nevertheless, the words flew ethereal.
“And whom must you be?” she asked as she held back a smile. Dare she speak to me? Clearly, she did not know who I was. I looked away from her, toward the statues bathing in the fountain. I turned back to her eyes and said,
“Nathaniel.” I stood up with grandiloquent composure, especially for being already completely saturated with vodka. I waited a long collection of moments,
“Would you come with me, into the landscape?” I let out my hand for her.
“Into the landscape?” she let out a breath of ego, “What on Earth do you mean?” She was very interested. I simply stared back at her, blankly, belittling her, and waited another long collection of moments.
“To leave here and go far off away from the insipid and decaying. Into this womb of shrubbery, and into your landscape. There we will poison ourselves with self-deceit and find our way back to Eden. I’ve heard rumors that the tree of life still stands. All alone there, though still alive and well.”
The symbols of pagans have slipped me the stories of Fate and seducing the goddess, the nymph. Pleasant the arrow went through her. The nectar fell from the flower and into her eyes, seminally engrossing her.
In the pitch dark, we subtly walked silently into the landscape until we found ourselves at a standstill.
