The Lovers - VI

Slice of the Novella from Tarot Blanco

Vicomte inside over let everything taste

Snow! And with that, you said everything and nothing: because one immediately asks the question: “Where?” is it on the Arctic plains or in the suburbs of Buffalo? Is it helping down with howls of oblivion or a light drifting waft? Is it common? Is their snow already on the ground? And most importantly, are you inside or outside? Because outside it freezes your skin and hollows your bones, it is alive for more than any precipitation should be allowed. But fortunately, the man was inside, on the third floor looking out over houses and thinking as he looked down and then at the snow again. Down because he was looking at his partner who was still asleep and should not the awoken.

Even if there was snow!

They were at the base of a mountain range, or what in the East would be called a mountain range, but in the West would properly be called a mere foothill. But there was something of a peak glowering down at them even though it was covered with ice and sleet that made it perfect for the hard sledding that the locals called skiing.

The difference was that this was the East of Qéubec rather than over the border in the old United States, and that was what made it different. He gently slid himself out of the bed and slowly donned the jeans and accouterments, even though the drifting flakes told him there was no going outside for anything. This is okay because the day before his significant other had stalked the fridge and freezer with all of those things that his tummy was gurgling for. He looked again at the bed and reminded himself to give thanks. This is because he might think about going to the supermarket but it would not become that doing that was the object.

He looked around at the white walls and tastefully covered so far and chairs. Of course over the top were their own things and two bags which distinctly said that they were not from around here and they would be gone before the cleaning person would stop by and make the rooms fresh and new. The thing that one needs to know, is that over all of you from the moon hitting the floor to the sun rising in the crack of day was that you were being watched for a moment where you left and disappeared into whatever beyond you were chasing. It was like an angel seen when you’re soul had departed and then it could straighten everything and water the plants including the short Apple tree that greeted you when you came in. Of course, it beckoned with the temptation of sweets and chocolate with an almost serpentine delight.

And again he looked out into the snow!

It was at that point that he became jangly and jingling for his pick of mourning news. Which was a different kind of snow the snow that comes horizontally from Washington, Dee Cee. Even up here in Canada, one could not escape the drone of the new FLOTUS and his crew of merry black hackers, and the news was which department they had collapsed. He could not help himself but to push the red button, which was pretty, and shiny, and ever so tempting. There was only an instant where he thought that he could resist it but that flowed away with the dripping water that hit the window and then drenched downwards.

As he was glomming his eyes orbs to the flat screen, he thought what a close thing it had been to get his significant other the passport. He’d never thought of this before because he had always had a passport from the age of five when his mother took him to Paris and other points in Europe. He had been amazed at the grandeur of every street corner and amazed at the architecture of even getting from one place to another. The off-white of the apartments and the blue-green of the nearly vertical rooves, which he later would know as the style of the Second Empire, astounded his small brain with a cartouche of possibility. However his significant other had never had a passport, and never even thought about getting a passport, which to him was sacrilege and almost an imprisonment in one’s country of birth.

The mélange Of the scrapings that filled the news glower was particularly noxious because there was almost no journalism, just public relations from the administration and a bit from the opposition party who admitted they could do very little unless there was some court proceeding. It was, in a word, dis-gus-ting. Rapting. Rapting. Rapting.

And then he looked out to the snow which was rather snow that was rapidly falling and the relief that they were now free to make a new life because their old one had been stripped by EO: because his significant other was born a man but knew in her heart that she was always a woman, even if known only inside.

And the snow cleansed completely this delusion by Fiat Lux upon the taste of clean perfection.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.