The First Meeting

A space previously empty is suddenly filled with her.

I find myself gazing directly into her eyes. She returns the stare in full force. I feel as though I’ve been locked onto by a locater beacon. The missile heads straight for me…

I await the impact. It comes in the form of a simple “Hello”.

She smiles. At the time I’m in the middle of talking to somebody else, but for those seconds it’s like my mouth is on remote.

She asks me lots of questions about the large camera I’m carrying on my shoulder. But it isn’t this I find nerve-wracking. It’s the way she looks deeply into my eyes with her own eyes which appear genuinely interested in everything I have to say.

It’s rare to meet up with a such an inquisitive person. Most people tend to go through the motions, put on a guise, ask a question and then immediately float off into a sweetly disinterested blank stare.

If she was disinterested then she disguised it well. In reply to her flurry of questions I stuttered and bumbled in my usual awkward manner, yet even more chaotic due to my mind enraptured by this unique encounter.

She was a beauty reminiscent of sixteenth century Europe, as if she had time-travelled. She had a slight English accent, fair skin, long red hair, beautiful figure. She bore a touch of sophistication. No princess though. She was barefoot and Earth-connected.

She didn’t fit any category of the ideal woman I’d ever conjured up in my head.

Several hours later we meet again. We stand in a queue to get food. I hand her a plate. The ground is damp so we end up sitting balanced precariously upon a trailer, like a seesaw, threatening to tip with any sudden movement.

She talks about movies. As she speaks I forget the name of every film I’d ever seen.