Beautiful natural woman in the garden of apple
Beautiful natural woman in the garden of apple

I pour Whiskey into the glass, throw two ice cubes and I sit down beside her covered in a red towel, lying on our couch in the living room. Her sight seems to seek answers to the questions of the soul.
-Am I beautiful? She asks me.
-You just know the answer. I know her so well, I know her questionable sight, her happily sight, her sight of woman crippled by longing or by sadness.
-No, seriously, tell me as impartial as you can. Her forehead wrinkles appear, and her eyes fixed me like a lion ready to attack prey.
-You are beautiful in my heart! You’ll always be beautiful, I tell her while taking a sip of Brown liquor.
-How is this? She had a confused expression as a child who did not understood the suggestions of an adult on how to put the shapes into holes.
-You’ll always be beautiful in one’s soul. We can’t be the most beautiful for a world-wide, but when we become someone’s world, we become. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, first with the eyes, then with the soul. Maybe I won’t be the last man in your life, so for the next one you’ll be at least as beautiful as you are to me.