Once More, With Feeling.
Chapter 1.
Prelude
Claude-Achilles Stravinsky traipsed down the broadwalk, the pampero whistling against his seemingly astute, yet somber facade. Hands tucked deep into his pockets, he strolled languidly, his mind like his hands, only buried in a more fathomless well of thoughts. After some time, age began to take it's toll, and he reluctantly sat himself down on the seaside gabions to take a breather.
Claude
I scoffed, mocking my pathetic self. How old, i had grown. Such a leisurely maunder had already induced insurmountable fatigation into my weary and feeble frame. The wire cages of the gabions were already starting to rust to a powdered crisp, but yet was able to withstand my weight. That showed how emaciated i looked, I was, and almost malnourished, or so to speak. I gazed at the crimson horizon, as a flamboyant myriad of warm colours dispersed the chilly weather. Such a magnificient sunset in the outskirts of Cairns was denoted recherche -meaning rare and exquisite, therefore in all sense of the word- . Faineantly, the waves clawed and glided over the shore, creating a longshore drift that formed a well-curved tombolo.
Subconsciously, the resplendent landscape evoked many memories and emotions into my mind. The main reason of my migration to such a sublime paradise is probably linked directly to my eternal sweetheart.
I first knew of her existence in the mid 1940s, one day down at the Bistrot Le Clou. The first of sights that I had set upon her, made me dizzy with fascination. Never had, and have, I once ever seen such immense pulchritude. I stood rooted at the doorway, my stare transfixed on her divine and angelic facial features, as a tide of an ineffable, spine-chilling serenity washed in and overwhelmed me.
I was attracted to her elegant grace, her abashed smile. Those curves that seperated her perfect, pair of lips and revealed an even set of bone-white teeth. Those perfect lips that were so alluring and somehow uncanny, as if calling out for me to touch them, to carress them. Her smile was monumental to me. The smell of her livid, black hair wafted towards me, and it felt like her black locks had entwined around my heart, holding it captive. I knew, I was more than enamoured by her prescence. I knew, i had fallen.
Suddenly, I jolted back to reality. The Sun had set, and darkness loomed above like a curtain draped carelessly over the atmosphere. The decomposing wire cages creaked under my bottom as i heaved myself up. Hesitant and tardily, I inched my way home. It was situated just a mere 200 meters away on a coastal dune, looking like it was retreating from
the incoming tides. Inside, I plopped down before the fireplace on my mahagony rocking chair, and started to reminisce about Sapph (abbrieviation of Sapphire) again.
This takes us back to the eventful 1946.
Claude-Achilles Stravinsky traipsed down the broadwalk, the pampero whistling against his seemingly astute, yet somber facade. Hands tucked deep into his pockets, he strolled languidly, his mind like his hands, only buried in a more fathomless well of thoughts. After some time, age began to take it's toll, and he reluctantly sat himself down on the seaside gabions to take a breather.
Claude
I scoffed, mocking my pathetic self. How old, i had grown. Such a leisurely maunder had already induced insurmountable fatigation into my weary and feeble frame. The wire cages of the gabions were already starting to rust to a powdered crisp, but yet was able to withstand my weight. That showed how emaciated i looked, I was, and almost malnourished, or so to speak. I gazed at the crimson horizon, as a flamboyant myriad of warm colours dispersed the chilly weather. Such a magnificient sunset in the outskirts of Cairns was denoted recherche -meaning rare and exquisite, therefore in all sense of the word- . Faineantly, the waves clawed and glided over the shore, creating a longshore drift that formed a well-curved tombolo.
Subconsciously, the resplendent landscape evoked many memories and emotions into my mind. The main reason of my migration to such a sublime paradise is probably linked directly to my eternal sweetheart.
I first knew of her existence in the mid 1940s, one day down at the Bistrot Le Clou. The first of sights that I had set upon her, made me dizzy with fascination. Never had, and have, I once ever seen such immense pulchritude. I stood rooted at the doorway, my stare transfixed on her divine and angelic facial features, as a tide of an ineffable, spine-chilling serenity washed in and overwhelmed me.
I was attracted to her elegant grace, her abashed smile. Those curves that seperated her perfect, pair of lips and revealed an even set of bone-white teeth. Those perfect lips that were so alluring and somehow uncanny, as if calling out for me to touch them, to carress them. Her smile was monumental to me. The smell of her livid, black hair wafted towards me, and it felt like her black locks had entwined around my heart, holding it captive. I knew, I was more than enamoured by her prescence. I knew, i had fallen.
Suddenly, I jolted back to reality. The Sun had set, and darkness loomed above like a curtain draped carelessly over the atmosphere. The decomposing wire cages creaked under my bottom as i heaved myself up. Hesitant and tardily, I inched my way home. It was situated just a mere 200 meters away on a coastal dune, looking like it was retreating from
the incoming tides. Inside, I plopped down before the fireplace on my mahagony rocking chair, and started to reminisce about Sapph (abbrieviation of Sapphire) again.
This takes us back to the eventful 1946.