Marcela and the last shadow puppets…

Desesperado

Don’t push me, ’cause I’m close to the edge I’m trying not to lose my head
It’s like a jungle sometimes It makes me wonder how I keep from going under

The Message
Grandmaster Flash & The Furious Five

Marcela was not tall, neither tiny, nor someone who you could actually recall with much detail. What I can really tell you is that her taste for pizza is not the best in town. I have this fetish for women offering a service at bars and restaurants. So, my breaking ice line is to ask for their favorite food on the menu. Yeah, chances to get a number are none but still offers you the opportunity to enjoy a candid smile. Marcela’s favorite was rocket pizza which is just Margarita pizza topped up with rocket salad – Yak! Rocket salad and that horrendous peppery flavor in each bite.

No one is perfect – isn’t it? Despite, that sour taste I had a good memory of you: subtle smile framed by dark hair, a discrete cleavage and a imaginary keyboard playing Secret Heart in the background – Wonderful, isn’t?

Marcela was coming and going from one to another table, my hands from the plate to my mouth as well. No need to move around, time to order an ice-cold beer to chill and observe the time pass by. I open carefully my sketching notebook and slowly spread my pencils on the table. I can feel my next memory being just close by and I do not want to miss it.

The empty plates on my table are my best option to make Marcela come closer to me. She has asked me if everything is ok, and I lie saying: yes, thank you. I should have pointed out that I should have not trusted her next time when it comes accross asking her suggestions about food. Anyways, I keep starring at nothing in specific to let my imagination to fly… What about asking Marcela to sit in my table and asked her about living in Vienna?

-Hey Marcela, so tell me, is everybody in town really an enthusiastic fan of classical music? – Marcela grins, and I let my pencil to swim free in the immensity of my sketching notebook.

-Let me see… mmm…. I guess somehow yes, it is a kind of a guilty pleasure to put it somehow. Not that every Austrian won’t feel proud of saying that listening to Beethoven every now and then makes you feel ashamed of yourself. It is more about fitting in a silly cliché. But yes, we have a passion for classical music and we are proud of it – She closes her phrase with a jovial smile to then say – Tell me, is this the normal way that you try to seduce women in every place that you go?

I cannot do something else than smile to my fantasy and get back to my searching for something to draw.

Finding out something appealing to my senses took me some time. The heat from the sun was making me feel upset. However, there she was for me once more to make my day special even if it was just about cleaning the table opposite to mine. Every move from her to clear the table and keep it tidy for the next costumer was osrt of looking at a passionate painter in the seek for the best lines to draw a poem of solitude: one table and two chairs hosting a very good looking couple of shadows…

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