'The intellectual rights of all texts, images, videos presented in this blog belong with their creators and/or publishers. They are presented here only for personal use and not for any monetary gain whatsoever.'
But as the serene houses wave to us tenderly with the stooping acacia on the white wall the flash of the great sea will move among us to win us over once again Ai captain eat your dried-up bread quickly and the black olive dipped in salt and in the sun over the vertical rock Time to set sail As we breath the glaucous sail of zephyr unfurls and its sunlit pleats wave up to behind happy breasts of the distant mountains There are no borders for our heart falling in love with the sea A banner of health that doesn’t hesitate nailed onto stone salutes the sky stirring over people large shadows of dew from the morning sea with its white sails and islands flowering in the midst of May Behind the rocks crawls the deserted silver thought of moon
She responded with a passionate kiss, then led him to her office where he sat on the couch while she took a file and a notepad from her desk and walked back over to him. By now Eteo had something very different from paperwork on his mind. He gazed eagerly at her full lips, her shapely legs, her small, pert breasts. He was fired up, and Rebecca responded in kind. She made his searching gaze easier by pausing in front of him and slowly taking her clothes off one article at a time. Eteo had never paid such close attention to her beautiful lines, her balanced curves, or her silky skin. Rebecca enjoyed provoking him and savored the first taste of the passion she had fired up in his veins when she stepped closer to him and Eteo pulled her onto the couch and putting his mouth between her legs aroused her sexuality to the stratosphere. Without letting her do anything at all, Eteo turned her on all fours and crashed inside her from behind, moving violently and roughly in and out of her body, pushing her to sexual apexes beyond anything she had experienced before today. Rebecca moaned and screamed with every orgasm until, exhausted, she pulled away from him and lay in front of him, face down on the couch. He let her take her break. He needed one too. Several minutes went by before Rebecca turned to him and, seeing the fire still burning in his eyes, asked, “What prompted such passion today, Eteo?” He shrugged. He didn’t know. He only knew he had suddenly wanted her in that violent way and no other. He only knew he had loved it and that Rebecca had too. As if reading his thoughts, Rebecca said, “I loved it, my lovely Eteo. I’ve longed for such lovemaking for a long time.” en she laughed. “Would you like to talk business now?” He smiled at her. Yes, he would love to talk business now. Yes, she had been superb in their erotic interlude. Yes, he and Rebecca had enjoyed their secret pact for a few years now. Whenever they met, it either happened or did not. It was never prearranged, never thought about in advance, never pretended, only thought about when it happened, and they loved it every time.
perused it, examining the minuscule symbols bordered with lines and drawings of the things in heaven and hell. “Mareoka, message.” I insisted. “You kill us. No message.” Guacaipuro threw the book away, distressed by this effrontery. It was a measure of his absolute power among his people that he did not worry about expressing himself in front of them. “Mareoka is not white!” he said. “Mareoka is Carib!” I nodded. As calmly as possible. I made it clear to him that I respected Mareoka. “We must talk,” I said.
For one hour Tamanoa and I were tied together against the trunk of a rubber tree. During this time we were able to discuss what had transpired with Guacaipuro. Tamanoa did not approve of my approach, but he agreed that falling on our knees and asking for mercy was not advisable either. “Our best hope is Apacuana,” I said. “If I know her at all, I think she will agree tomarry Baruta, and ask Guacaipuro to spare us in return.” “To spare you, my friend,” Tamanoa said, mournfully. “They despise mixed-bloods.” “Are you sure they can tell?” He laughed. “They can smell the difference.” Nearby the Indians tended their fires, cooking and talking as they might have done on any other day. Some regarded us indifferently, others ignored us. In the sky above, vultures circled. I was hoping to be fed, but everyone stayed away. I imagined Apacuana would bring us some water, but even she left us untended. Two warriors came towards us and I was relieved to see they did not bring weapons. They untied us. They took the rope from the tree and tied my right leg to Tamanoa’s left leg. Whether this measure was taken to prevent us from running away, or merely to humiliate us, I cannot say.
XIII Come, sit next to me, and let us smell the sweet aroma of freshly harvested glover with a multitude of sparrows chasing the cicadas and the salty trees by the shore breathing salinity mixed with serenity and watery passion under the auspices of the soft bending of branches and let us listen to the kids playing football on the open field five sunburned village boys with bright eyes and future written in their irises and we copy all the images from the quiet light blue transcendence of the terrace that charges into our bedroom and onto the outline of your body unparalleled eternity and longing of my palm seeking your ethereal lines.
“And Lona probably knows there’s something going on,” said David, “’cause she was up on deck this morning, too.” “It doesn’t have to be a big cloak and dagger issue,” Paul said. “I’ll just announce to the authorities—maybe Ivan Nikolaevich or Natasha—that I want to defect to the Soviet Union. It happens. They’ll be delighted.” He rattled on, calmed by the acquiescence. “At first, they’ll think I’m a spy. I’ll have to prove I’m not. Then I figure we can get on with living.” Jennifer felt a fresh wave of anger. “How naïve are you? Of course they’ll think you’re a spy, a plant. You’ll be interrogated, maybe sent away. You don’t get it. All this first class treatment we’ve been getting is for visitors, not for citizens. Listen”—he was waving her away—”in Leningrad I met a Cuban, a musician, who opted to move here. You think they gave him an award? Put him in an orchestra? No. He’s now living in a condemned slum with a 10-rouble-a- week job sweeping floors. That’s what will happen to you.” Paul sat down on the bunk with a sudden thump, his knapsack at his feet. “No, they wouldn’t do that—they wouldn’t break us up. And they wouldn’t mistreat me. I’m still a Canadian citizen.” “Like I said, how naïve are you? You could see the inside of a Soviet jail for a long time while they’re deciding what to do with you.” Paul fidgeted nervously, the bravado gone from his face. Jennifer went on, “Think about Vera. She’ll come under scrutiny, too…her family, her whole life will become uncomfortable.” David cleared his throat. “I hate to say this, bucko, but she’s right. I remember when I was here in ‘68 one of the Italian exchange students—a real Romeo—fell for Masha, a mathematics student. Whoo, she was hot stuff, but none of us poor adolescents could get near her. Only her Romeo. Anyway, he opted to stay in the country and that’s the last we saw of him.” Paul’s face had turned grey. “What do you mean?” “He just quietly disappeared. When we asked the teachers about him, some of them actually pretended they didn’t know who we were talking about. My professor—he was a good guy—gave me a straight answer, or as close to a straight answer as you’ll get here. He said that Romeo was being re-settled. That was his word, ‘re-settled’. He didn’t look too happy when he said it.” “So what does it mean?”
Mayanaam
vequinox
Manolis 
