... and men and women ..players..” His words blaze a trail. Like neon lights. Like music,pulsing : lifting me to my feet.This is insane. I want him to go,I want him to stay.
” Who are you ?” I ask. “Some call me “TRES ” He says, the eyes are warm dark olives, he does not stop.“If you can hold your head up high, no matter what ; if what comes against you, improves you, would you walk away, should you ?
“This is a Dream, right ?” I ask.He nods. ” And I know what you need. ”
“I need to just have a nice day for a change. “
“ Ayyyy! A Merry heart, is like a Medicine.A Broken Spirit dries the bones, but a merry heart..”
(‘ Oh please, ‘I want to say, ‘ I have a fractured arm, and pain killers.’ He goes on, about not getting discouraged. The room turns into a bizarre Ramp, running through hospital wards and people in plaster of paris, smiling at me. Guh!)
“ The question is, who are you? Do you remember ?” He has this aura, like a Salon. And the aroma of grace. Strange. I never connected Salons with grace!
” I am TRESemme…”
I hear that as ‘TRES&me’ ; we chase another sea urchin as it tumbles with breeze and sand.“Did you realise how much man imitates nature? That Sea Urchin’s spikes can look trendy if ..”
First we were all “Players on a global stage,” now we are ‘ imitators of nature.”
“Tres,” my voice is gentle, the pain killers are working, or is it the long walk back to nature and life in the raw ? Ah. Haute coutre at its best is when you are you. True to your address. You ride odds.Blown over by seasons, ruffled by Change, but walking tall, anywhere, anytime; unafraid.
” TRES is like healing rain, mingling me with things I had forgotten. Sometimes we get back to base, turn around, old things are made new. He hears my thoughts and grins.
” It’s just Vanity! ” I mutter, but He is sensitive,” It’s your hair. ”
Sigh. Like I am some ‘Beloved!‘
Images emerge like vials of liquid tender oils conditioning a fractured spirit ; we soak the sun. Crookn’ ways become straight, rough ways smooth, I turn around and start over. Like a sea urchin, wind blown. My scalp tingles with a new way of doing a seriously old thing. He shrugs with cheer. You have to dream before a dream can come true. Hey. Can a dream, a twist in a curl, a new style, a little smile change the way I get to know me again ?
watch this : I get something home from that windswept head of Sea Urchin : “Urchin plait worked from base of neck to forehead or one temple, neat or ruffled, pinned down or planned chaos…different profiles and gear, re-working the one style that never walked away…”
Thank you TRES my friend for making – over a ‘fractured day’, and not just for me 🙂
EVERY PICTURE IN THIS PAGE IS A DIFFERED VIEW OF THE SAME URCHIN PLAIT.
Click on pic for better view/PiCourtesy Raycatcher.
Salon Diaries: pages from my home.
LITTLE TOUCHES mean a lot.
- Stanford seeks sea urchin’s secret to surviving ocean acidification (terradaily.com)
- Sea Urchins Adapt to Climate Change (livescience.com)
- “All the world’s a stage …(Salon Diaries) … (raeindia.wordpress.com)