K-Blog

an anniversary not worth remembering but that I will not allow myself to forget. And with that, thoughts of revenge. I have already had it. Revenge is underrated though. personal pride and stubbornness. In favor of making things work out for the best. I think I am growing. And my staff with me. yet another anniversary, that I have promised not to blog about. I didn't. But I felt it passing. filters. I seem to be getting tougher. Like an onion stripped layer by layer, we merely become more what we already are. My eyes water, but I think I like this scent.

It took me by surprise. I was shopping and passed the supermarket on my way home, to pick up tomatoes for the buffalo mozzarella I have in the fridge. I was wearing my Ipod as usual - it's shuffling - something I never allow it to do, but these days I rediscover music I forgot I had. I walk into the supermarket and directly into the fruit and vegetables compartment. I can't make up my mind, there's so much beauty and inspiration here and I have all the time in the world. I linger for a long time, and my mind wanders, I have to pick a white wine for tomorrow as well, a task I love. My eyes feast on the bright red of tomatoes, on the bright colours and shiny waxiness of all the vegetables in the compartment. The deafening and seducing scent of basil. And suddenly I remember him telling me about tender bits of basil leaves wrapped around new Danish strawberries. They're both here, strawberries and basil, but I'll wait. I want to eat it with him. And as I realize ...

Our lips was millimetres apart. That second stretched into eternity, I with flared nostrils, taking in the scent of him, of his skin, his hot breath on my mouth and the soft darkness under my closed eyelids. Waiting. Waiting for that spark to fly, to feel the first softness of his lips against mine, eager, curious. Waiting, almost not breathing but the sound of it irregular in my ears anyway. Waiting for him to move ahead those last millimetres, wondering vaguely whether he was waiting as I was. And when he hesitated, it dawned on me that he might be doing the exactly same thing. Savouring the closeness, the scent of us mingling between our lips, taking me in before he kissed me. When he finally did, it was like kittens playing. Soft, playful, warm, fuzzy, endearing, too good to be true. Intense. After a while; a hint of teeth on my bottomlip, a promise of more to come, something where playful and endearing turn into urgency to hold on to, to cling to, to bite a bit. I could har...

- when impossible expectations are met. And exceeded.