Spooning With Nine Cats

Nestled in each other’s bodies, conversation took its first flight. Swimming through the dingy lanes of Gregory Roberts to the mansions created by Ayn Rand, these early birds jumped from the cliff. Through clouds, kissing the skies, they flew into each other’s past, discovering lonely roads where they often went alone. Conversation played quilt, letting in warmth through words. Swaying from one side to the other, intentions woke up and announced themselves. Kurosawa slowed down time, Ray brought in the poignancy and silent cinema was greeted with a language, which was now turning comfortable. Moves were darted; some were hedged while others were welcomed. As night yawned its way to the morning, the two birds were flying right next to each other. He ran his fingers through her feathers, making his intentions very clear. She held his gaze and made him fly behind her to a world she hesitated to go before. With a new friend and an old feeling she entered the mountains, and as lovers would tease, they flew. Romancing the air, flying under, hovering over, darting across, they expressed hidden desires which were socially wrong, but innately right. Before the sun could spoil the night’s wonder, they returned to their nest. As Nine Cats purred, they kissed.

 

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