Bird of all wings, flying eyes of a playful wind, wild daughter of the fisherman, sister of my poor soul!
Where do you hide?
Come, come, I did not die! And cry now because I like it so much from your eyes, Simorgh of my painful dream, I knew always that I will find you again, from the depth of a long coma, from the red clouds of the morphine, from the whirls that threw sand in my sore eyes…
It took so long to piece my life back from that terrible day in the car, but you were the first I remembered, that wheedling smile you had that afternoon after we dropped those nasty pills they never wanted to tell me about at the hospital! I saw you in the green-glared tunnel I crawled along for what felt like months, suffering madly, between some stunning shots in my hanging plastic guts, in all the parts of my still complete but mashed body.
The other car came on my side, broke half of my bones and almost teared my heart apart, had they not flown me to Eppendorf just in time to open wide my rib-cage and sew everything safe back on. That plus the hip, the leg and the arm, I won’t tell you what I look like in my bath! But my face is spared, only one Prussian slash like grandpa!
Everybody was so terrified about me that they let you be when they learned you were almost safe, then they considered it was your fault because you had been driving under some influence. When finally I talked and asked about you, Mother said she had no news, after you rebuked her in Berlin. You had fled from the apartment and left no address. I remembered your arrangement in Paris an the name of Camille’s gallery The Amused Star so if you read me I guessed right.
I will need you, I live at your old Berlin address, I want to know your friends too if they can watch a recovering wreck. I will go back to Frauenhofer here so you won’t have me on your back too often, and if you forgive me I won’t bring you any more witch pill.
Take my numbers, please call me and I will come to you at once, I don’t need a cane to walk and even run again now!
What an unbelievable day that was! We are still shaking, all of us and I hold her in her sleep while she still sobs on my belly.
Early this morning, Camille came in to find us in bed and kindly wake us to the idea she had something to tell us and particularly Kate. We moaned and petted the intruder who kept a peculiar patient look on her face.
She started to explain she had received an unexpected letter, and she took out a rather large envelope, from which she pulled a second one of pale blue, with Kate’s name on it, who at first sight rounded her eyes with what seamed like sheer fright, read both sides and grabbed me with tremor. She tried to open the envelope without tearing it and did not want any help but I could read the return address, it said it was Simon Harff.
She was shaking, we held her, I drank her tears as I do, she read the lines which began to dissolve on the paper, and she collapsed in an impressive crisis as we looked at what it said. I asked Camille to call Hugo who ran in and saw the letter. He climbed on the bed too, took the Fairy’s head with firm hands and with a clear voice said he had never read better news in his life and we should all come downstairs for coffee or tea. He tried to carry the marvel kid in his arms but he dared not the stairs; in an oversized shirt, her hair unravelled and no knickers on, she was madly desirable for a troubled little fawn like me as I preceded her down the steps.
We crashed on a sofa with a mumbling Ophelia, Hugo called Lena for help and some breakfast. Holding Katherine’s hands he said she would call Simon as soon as she collected some spirits and we would go meet him right away. He would also arrange with Wolfgang to consult with Doctor Schubert in any event. She was literally stunned, She held me with all her strength and gave me a long glutton kiss.
There’s a word for what occurs today, it’s a miracle! At the end of a chain of unforeseeable hazard, Katherine had cast an anchor in the depth of sorrow that is about to be lifted. We all cried with her and she could not stop to be able to call Simon on the telephone. When she did, it was soft and chaotic, we left her but she clung to Sarah and kissed her as if she was him.
I reached Wolfgang at his university in Berlin to get to Dr Schubert, I felt he should be advised his one time patient’s equation was changing dramatically and although it was for the better it might need some attending by him or someone he would tell.
By noon, an appointment had been set in Dalhem for the next evening and I made arrangement to go with the girls this time. We decided to fly the next day, and the petty necessity of packing untied the moods. The grey eyes were swollen, she hardly could hold a cup right, but smiles dawned again, Sarah took her to their bathroom to wash her hair.
Camille, Gauthier and I remained together quite aroused by the events and the golden kid won instant attention from both of us and threw his arms back when his grey velvet robe was ripped off. Then I called Maurizio the caterer for some snacks and we sat in the kitchen while the two swans upstairs groomed each other or chatted with Kreuzberg.
My long time friend and publisher Melchior lent his jet plane for the next morning, I felt I would be carrying some intricate piece of porcelain until she was delivered to Dr Schubert, who answered he would see her in Dahlem the next evening.
Sarah says: she’s rounded in my bosom like a fawn alerted, her eyes move like there are calculations beyond the clouds of her silence. I draw her to the shower and we dress our whole bodies in lather of orange and geranium, I notice a little tint of red in the foam as she’s having her period a little ahead of me this time. It justifies a soapy kiss and a wide rinsing with a careful massage of the scalp. I slid in the tampon and pretend to grab her lower belly, then I conscientiously comb her hair with some balsamic secret from Santa Maria Novella. When I start blowing hot air, she starts playing with my tits, then brushes my nearly dry short curls.
It is still mild as the summer vanishes, we put on shirts and boxers and I call Hugo to tell him we will stay upstairs, he says the car will pick us at eight and I understand his concern in the unusual tone of voice he uses, repeating my name and greeting us a good night many times.
We make up a dinner of chocolate from Patrick Bradfer Camille had brought back from a trip to the countryside, Speculoos and Baizhong tea.
She asks me to wax her legs, I say i want that too, so we organise the battlefield on towels on the bed. Soon the smell of benjamin arise and we start torturing each other up to the little stream paths she wants to be polished as an egg. There are shrill barking at the final touches, and mumbling and moaning consequently, and a lotion that smells like hemp on adventurous fingers.
Soon her eyes roll and she sinks in the pillows, I tidy up our den while she falls asleep. I put on some dark madder Purcell sonatas low and spread her tawny hair all around. She lays face down, I push my nose in her armpit and catch her hand between my legs.
I have decided a pot of Darjeeling and I rush up a bag of fresh linen, then I jump on her rump and tickle her out of her cloud. For a while, she is deliciously passive, because she knows it cannot be. I bring her to the shower and put a cap over her troubled mind. Hugo on the telephone deftly suggest we come down in thirty minutes.
She’s all freshened up naked at the kitchen table where she makes up her eyes looking into a magnifying mirror. I can’t resist laying my cheek on her back and misbehave with the small blue string.
She decides for a chevreau suit and jodhpur boots of the same green ashes colour, a lichen grey jersey top and no bra. She has twisted her wavy hair in a relaxed bun with a horn clip. I want to wear the black boy’s three piece suit Hugo asked Gianni to cut for me, with a Liberty ultramarine shirt, black richelieus and socks of the same blue.
We run downstairs before any worries hatch in, Hugo is proud of us and hugs the Wundermädchen, then kisses my hand when the car calls. On the way to the airport she calls Simon on her telephone, he says their mother won’t be there today but might pop in early tomorrow
It is broad sunlight on Le Bourget when we reach the white airplane, we are greeted by a slender captain I could do with and he sees that, Kate is dazzled as much by the sun as by the scene happening, the flight attendant holds our hand when we hop in.
The jet’s cabin has twelve tan leather armchairs, six of which face each other. It is not long before we take off. The attendant brews some of our own tea with a paper filter. Hugo sits next to her and holds the hand with the opal on. She’s as much frightened as excited, she calls me to her lap and we talk shop, and our last discoveries on the web in the realm of lyric abstraction and outsider expressionism, we avoid to anticipate the events of such a crucial day.
After an hour we descend upon Berlin Schoenefeld where Wolfgang waits for us with a black minibus and soon we ride towards Kreuzberg.
Hugo said he would be waiting at his hotel. She insisted that I come up with her. She walked up the three flights of stairs like a ghost and pressed a split second on the doorbell. We heard a slow and faint step when Simon came to open. She stifled a scream and opened her harm where he hugged her already crying like a child.
Scrawny and pale in maroon pyjamas and slippers his hair very short showing scars over the ear, he could not articulate any word for a long moment when she did not know how to behave. I walked around with our bag to the sitting room while she drew him to the bedroom still holding his frail body.
The weather was bright, I went to the window and looked over Bürknerstrasse, hearing the cries from the bedroom. He was reviewing his injuries for her, the door was ajar, she could barely breathe. When I reached the door at an angle I saw he was now laying naked on the bed, she had dropped her jacket and was caressing the scars everywhere on his body with the tip of her fingers, she kissed his eyes, which were remarkably similar to her own, she kissed his mouth, she followed the dark pink lines with a low pitched complaint.
It lasted. I could not catch when they started. She was saying strange words and he was giving strange answers. I remembered their game, not believing they would reach the “Potamus, Washington…” part, but they did. He was probably happy to show the crash had spared an essential element of his person she was now taking in her mouth. He was spread out and relaxed, he came rather fast and she groaned and swallowed conscientiously.
Now she was undressing and laying along his side, her eyes in his with a radiant smile. I went silently back to the window. From the bed, she asked me if I could find some food, which I more than willingly did, taking the key with me. I revived the few days I had lived with her in the apartment. I went on the bridge over the Landwehrkanal and called Camille to tell her the events. She was happy and a bit surprised, but not so much. Then I called Hugo at the Regent and he was thrilled. He said he was sending in no time treats from Borchardt Catering. He would pick us up at six.
Having bought Vanity Fair at a shop nearby, I sat in the sunlight of a terrace opposite the door to the apartment, giving the mischief angels a little secrecy. Unable to read about Kalki Koechlin in the magazine, my mind was figuring out what Dr Schubert could make of the unabashed congress upstairs, for he would know?
The delivery van was there, I ran to the door and showed the boy upstairs, speaking as much as I could to let the sinners straggle away, but they sat quietly in the drawing room and Kate jumped to the boxes, signed the voucher and started to arrange plates of savoury bits. Seeing me approach, she stared at me with devilish eyes and gave me a whirling kiss with her tongue. I clung to her like a kitten and we finally laughed under Simon’s gibe. I felt my face redden, I could not let go of her smell and skin. She took my head in her hands and we played the cyclope. and I felt her life was alleviating already.
Later, when the pecking was over, they sat on the sofa and the talk was about medical ordeal and the ultimate test for painkillers, Simon keeping watch for our tears and sprinkling flakes of humour with real talent. in an emotional moment, Kate airily opened her brother’s pyjamas, obviously for me to look at the ravage. I restrained a shout, side by side I was contemplating two opposites of the same body, one was skeletal, sheared and devastated, long dark pink lines ran from his neck to his right thigh. She let her light hand follow the weird drawing, I came nearer and sat on the armrest while he searched my eyes. From the plexus I sent the most loving vibrations I could funnel to his scribbled body. They had the very same eyes and skin, I took his hand and cried on it. We spoke no more.
Hugo says: the small band was ready, Simon wearing a black oversized track suit. The ride through Schöneberg and Steglitz went smoothly. Dr Schubert lives in a stately home near the Free University, with a gracious park around it. We were greeted by a charming middle aged woman who lead us to the library the girls had described last spring. After fifteen minutes, a typical bearded academic figure opened the double door to his study, wearing a green velvet vest over a white shirt, a gold watch-guard across his stomach. His shoes were as shiny and sharp as evening shoes.
The Doctor held out both hands towards Kate, who shook them with one of her angelic smiles, obviously he wanted her to make presentations, which she did starting with Simon, then Sarah, and myself, the famous writer in whose home she said Sarah and herself lived. Still holding her hands, he drew her to the study and swiftly closed the doors, his eyes on her.
The house lady offered coffee or tea and we welcomed it. Sarah was already looking for the Victor Hugo album that had impressed her during the previous visit, I opened the conversation with the boy, fascinated by his eyes, as if in front of me Kate had been unearthed from death, but soon we had matter to share on his future, the ongoing convalescence watch at the Charité hospital, and soon his engineer studies he would catch up at TU Berlin with all the help from his parents; as soon as his doctors allowed, he would visit in Paris, he promised. Through the ambiguity of his likelihood with Katherine I liked the boy, on the vast armchair in the vague black clothing, only his poor face seemed alive, but his expressions were pretty much willing.
Sarah came to me with the album, she smelled a young chord of Samsara, I could not help discreetly nose her armpit when she bent with the heavy book at my side. The prints were sumptuous, I exclaimed my agreement to her description. Simon came timidly and finally sat on the other armrest, he felt so much lighter than the gracile girl, he smelled the unmistakable 4711 with a hint of medical cleanliness. I felt his bony ribcage against my shoulder.
We chatted over the prints of the very German fantasies of Victor, the boy was witty, when he
had warmed up a bit his voice reflected his sister’s alto. Bewitched by the fantastic imagery, my mind drifted to the vision of the beautiful siblings in the dunes when the door opened on Katherine, followed by Dr Schubert who showed a large smile. Simon had walked towards her and they hugged for a whole minute. Then the doctor turned to Sarah and asked for her hand and held it until Kate looked back, he then put their hands together, knowingly nodding.
Seeing the house Lady I understood it was time to leave our saviour, who was particularly kind to Simon, asking who was seeing him at the Charité, warmly approving the name, and telling him he could call if he needed some support in the next few months, he gave him a card, I don’t have one.
Sarah says: there was no better place to go to cheer for the beginning of the healing than the privacy of the apartment. In the minivan, Hugo was ordering a finger-food buffet from Borchardt and Champagne, there should be a person waiting, too.
Kate and Simon went into childhood reminiscence, the excitement on the Hindenburg Dam and the first gale with the arms and legs spread like windmills, and the many birds which would not recognise you yet, and the shutters raised one by one until the big house smiled once more.
We all were on the sofa like on-board a raft, Hugo behind me on the armrest, me rummaging her hair and staring at her brother’s eyes, and smiles, and gestures. When the caterer rang, she went to show them the kitchen and the dishes, but they had brought everything. I was facing Simon now, he took interest in my jacket’s fabric, because there was a thin thread of platinum woven at every centimetre in the black slick wool, but he kept my sleeve in hand as if he wanted me nearer, asked me about my own childhood, my same wildness in the Swedish sands of Falsterbo, volley-ball matches and camp-fires at night.
Keeping an eye on the mild caresses Hugo was pouring on his sister’s bare shoulders, he coveted me visibly and I let him as far as the concern for his injuries allowed me. The table was set on white cloth in silver plates, catching our attention, so he delineated my face with his feeble but steady hand, snooping inside my ticklish ear.
As we stood up gather our treats, I dropped the jacket, Kate came up to me with mint in her mouth and unbuttoned my shirt down to the navel, her brother standing behind me feeling very much alive, she gave me a tip of the tongue on the lips.
Back on the couch, Simon cornered me with an eager eye on my white chest. On his part, Hugo wheedled the smiling lyrebird on his lap in her favourite armchair of bordeaux velvet that had once been in their parent’s sitting room. The reborn page gently held my knee, in his eye I asked if that place would be Baltimore? First he did not get it, then he smiled finely and I laid my hand on his thigh and muttered “Wupertal”, he ventured a finger inside my cleavage and said “Firenze”, and on until we reached Potamus and Washington and he drew me to the bedroom. No one seemed to notice.
He gave me a furious lemon-blueberry kiss while my silk-lined pants slid down and he lowered my black lace panties. I asked for the bathroom, so he took everything off, petted my blue socks for a while and came with me. He wanted to touch my pee as I slowly lowered the sweatpants and seized a valiant pecker. I swiftly reached the shower and he followed, we washed the pleasure clearings and he moaned to my fingers in his butt-hole, a trick I remembered from Kate’s telling.
I wiped him watching for any sign of ache, we finished half-wet on the bed. There was a bit of pride exhibiting his scars I kissed and licked as if putting a spell on them. The rib cage had been opened, leaving and appalling furrow I dared not look, He wanted my shy spring and he ate every fold and recess around until the joint expertise of tongue and finger made me come. I took the flute to my throat, presenting my ass to his play, did a few garlands of petals between the spread thighs and he shot inside holding my skull with both hands without telling. Unlike my own brother, he did not turn away after his misdeed and watched me swallow the scour spoonful but kissed my face all over holding my neck. For a short lapse Kate was a real boy. We went back to the shower and a asked me to rub a cream smelling of hay and blackberry over the lines of stitches. We went back silent, fresh as mountain trouts, to find Kate naked on the floor and Hugo wanking off on her. She grabbed Simon’s foot and made him sit on her face, She was instantly sprinkled between the legs by the transfixed master of games.
I noticed the waiter had gone, only remained fruit and petits-fours on the table. the chief and the squaw headed to the bathroom and the quilt sonny put some electro-cloud webradio on from his computer. In my opened shirt I sat next to him, saying we would be parting the next day because Kate and her mother did not want to meet. He answered he would go back to the university and he appreciated his mother’s help. He would be visiting in Paris when he would have grown some of his strength back. Finding his johnson again, I demonstrated most of his strength was back, and he laughed and kissed. Like my most precious torment on earth, he was a jolly good kisser and capsized my head fast.
They had borrowed some of the boy’s cologne, they came back fresh and I bit her butt cheek while she was slipping her pants on. Hugo managed to have his own tour of the kid’s ravages as we dressed and combed each other. Simon sensed some lust through the scrutiny of his body, he showed the same smile as the one he had regained amongst his scattered life.
I strengthened my spy outfit when Hugo called for the car, Mrs H. would be early in the morning and quickly deduct that a quite mellow shenanigan had occurred at her son’s chambers. As they discussed matters in the corridor, Hugo played with my nipples, to make me look weak, he said. The car was there, we kissed the wounded one and at least two girls reached for his dick as a good luck.
Katherine dreams: I wear a tee-shirt with no panties or shoes, it is cold out there in Berlin but I don’t feel it. A gold chain comes out of my vagina and feels warm inside my thigh. I carry a bright yellow bag of tangerines from which a bird flies away. I turn back because I haven’t seen if it was blue, but it’s gone, and all the trees of the avenue are covered with birds which have only one eye. My foot bumps on something, it is a shoe, my shoe, I am sitting against the wall of an old white building, but here I stand with my beautiful warm chain and I run from the other me and the tangerines start to cry. I look inside the bag and a herd of orange birds look up to me as I fall in the midst of them. They make music with their feathers as they stroke my skin and swing from my vagina chain. Big Katherine appears at the oculus in the yellow dome, I have never seen her wearing sunglasses, and she smokes a dirty cigarette. All the birds flee the round house making a round of applauds but the police erupts from behind the columns and walk towards me. I hide my vagina chain in my hands and I clench my legs. The police wear black uniforms with badges in the shape of buoys and caps with a transparent blue visor. They round me and trample on, making a huge echo in the vault. I stand up and let my chain free, the twinkles from the gold sparkle on their satin uniforms and rejoice them so they blow their whistles and airplanes turn in the sky but sirens sound and white ambulances arrive to an explosion of tangerines which start filling the room an falling on my head and tummy. Teams in white overalls holding snow shovels gather the tangerines and throw them in the air to make them smoke rings. Men all looking like my father come to me while I pull the chain inside and lick some blood on my fingers. They take scissors from their breast pockets and cut my shirt into tiny fish that jump on the dry pavement. They palpate my tummy and my breast and pull out the gold chain with a watch attached to it. My many fathers congratulate and tie the watch with the chain to my wrist, then they all walk away through the same door. I hear nothing, it is night through the large round window in the ceiling and I wonder where the moon is, standing up, I notice a stairway running down in circle from which comes the smell of tuberose, as my grandmother once told me. I walk down, noticing the blood traces inside my legs, and reach warm waters in obscure blue mosaics where I swim slowly along with flexible red haired children who come to look at my watch and lick my face deftly. The water children draw me to a bed of precious cobbles and come out with me, they wear drapes like dragonfly wings that swish around their slender bodies, I cannot see if they are boys or girls, I covet their thin feet and they let me touch, staring into my eyes making a tiny noise with their tongue. From the colours they pick in the gravels they knit layers of cloth on me and their busy hands tickle and turn me on till I come laying back under their will. Suddenly they have disappeared and I smell the dirty cigarette. Big Kate is naked and she wants the pebbles I’m on, but now they are pills and moving syringes crawl in them and try to bite me. I look at my watch where a big eye turms to my right and a field of strawberries with a rainbow bus arriving. I run and shout and when I reach the bus it is empty, my feet are red with fruit juice. A nurse in green uniform with a frog insignia takes out an arm-long tube and applies it to my vagina while turning a little crank that pushes a tampon inside. Then from behind my head she picks a shower head and washes me inundating the bus now an air plane. From the overhead trunks she takes plenty of clothes but nothing fits so she throws them out as we fly. The other passengers start to sing in a language I do not understand, and I walk the alley in colourful veils, my size being my actual one. They touch me and want to know the time, the eye on my watch winks and swirls as I let them grope my butt. I attain a seat where Simon smiles at me and shows me there is room for us. I sit down and turn to him and he has Sarah’s face, and the scars are purple embroideries into her skin, with embedded garnets and jet beads. She holds my face and we press our foreheads together and watch the big eye and they sing like the cherry blossoms in the wind with closed lips and I wake up to the dawn of Sarah’s chest and I wear no watch.
She’s feverish as we all wake up in Hugo’s king size bed and she stares at me for a few seconds not understanding. My kiss brings her back to life and she runs to the toilet as breakfast arrives. I act naturally as the waiter leers at my tee-shirt. This morning will be old fashioned as coffee. She’s back with her blue string and she tells about the gold chain so Hugo decides she needs a watch. They both pet me for a while but Hugo’s phone tell him the plane will be there in the afternoon. She chats with Simon in Facebook. I decide for a red silk shirt and red socks, she wears a provocative flesh lace that make her look naked. Urged by Hugo in a light black kameez over a white silk tee-shirt , we walk in the sun to Friedrichstrasse where he knows a shop.
The shop assistant at Wempe purrs like a fat cat as we are presented the treasures, and we rub shoulders in disbelief like twelve years olds. She wants a man’s watch, no chain, a blue dial platinum Ellipse … The negotiation is about the engraving of her initials on the back, before we leave Berlin. The watch will be delivered in time. We are borderline hysterical, she needs to blow her nose before filling the guarantee papers. Hugo pulls out the black card and the black Ray-bans.
Back at the hotel, we order langoustines on salad and Ferrarelle water. Then I feel slutty and sluttier, our pants open we rummage for Hugo’s johnny but Kate whose hand was in me says I need a tampon, too! So I run for the bathroom and also opportunely wash and lube the dark side of the moon. The man is strong in the fawn’s mouth, playfully holding my blue string, I bestride the King and slide his sceptre slowly in my boy’s sheath. He wants the other half to climb on the headrest and feed him pussy dreams while we babble in warm wet tongues. I knead hard and he mumps in rhythm until he roars to her sweetest vulva while his flow invades my small inferno.
These hotels have spacious showers and luscious robes, I stay nude a while. A shy knock at the door and we let Hugo answer, when we come out there’s a parcel for each of us, marked with our initials. Soon we wear only crocodile and gold as we slowly dance together.
We have to read the booklet inside the wooden casket to learn how to set time we get from our telephone, and it says we need to go to Schönefeld. She’s so childish and light-headed I devour her eyes all the way. She falls asleep on Hugo’s shoulder.