Post by reader on Aug 2, 2007 16:19:32 GMT
A repost of my story from Eyescene:
This is a true sighting, from a recent visit to Istanbul. But I took the liberty and described my fantasies at that moment as well. They were a part of the experience.
It was summer. I went to Istanbul again, stayed in a cheap hotel and just traveled about the city, enjoying its diversity, its good people. I had this thing for Sutlach, that sweet rice pudding, burned on top, that you can only get in Istanbul. Well, you can get it in other places as well, but never as good as in Istanbul. So I went to a BHU shop, the one near the grand bazaar. The waiter, a young teenager, came and took my order. I sat there, eagerly waiting for my plate to arrive, when I saw her, standing by the door, shy, her gaze lowered. She was wearing glasses, set in a black metal frame. She raised her glance and the first thing that I noticed were her huge eyes behind her thick lenses, playing inside those diamond aquariums, surrounded by all kind of reflections. My heart stopped. I'm not sure why, for some reason that beautiful girl who probably believed herself to be an invalid, an ugly freak, took my breath away. Was she a waitress here as well? I signaled her. She tried to ignore my gesture but I didn't let her. She came by. My heart was beating hard. I wanted to take my clothes off, hold her hand and jump naked into those blue-white pools inside her lenses. Those thick lenses, those semi-precious diamonds, which made her eyes glitter like magical animals, independent and free. "Yes?" her gaze was lowered, not looking at me.
"Is my Sutlach coming?".
"I'll check, sir." She's gone, swallowed inside a BHU sweets parlor. The crowd passed around me, going to the market, to work, to church, oblivious to the beauty that was hidden inside. I only wanted to go and meet my love. My new love. "Excuse me!" Oh, that lowered gaze again. You can look straight at me! I thought. I think that you are beautiful, the most beautiful creature on earth. But how do I tell her that?
"Yes?" she came nearer.
"Hmmm. well..." I hesitated, then recovered my courage, "I'm new to this city, can I meet you when your shift is finished?" She raised her glance, then lowered it again, blushing. So beautiful! I'm addicted to her, the complete "her" with her glasses on and everything. It doesn't seem that you could separate her from these glasses (the way you could separate her from her clothes), they are a part of her.
"Me? out?" she was puzzled. You could see every emotion and thought under the microscope of her huge lenses, she couldn’t hide anything. In order to see, she had to show. Even now, when I write this, with heavy glasses that press against my nose, It makes my heart beat hard.
It took a while, but I fell in love with her, and she with me. I won't bother you with all the details; you've probably heard it all a million times, teenage love, nothing more famous or mysterious. A total enigma, God's own happiness.
What I do want to tell you is how I myself became mutilated, or found out that I was born mutilated and didn't know about it. I mean mutilated in a good sense, as in chosen, special, beatified. I'll try to make myself clear as I go along. But will say right now: I wouldn't trade my condition now for what it was before. I love my glasses. But I'm getting carried away.
After a while, we moved together. I moved all my businesses to Istanbul and rented an apartment with her. Life was good; she continued to work for BHU. But my love for her gave her new courage, and soon she climbed up the ladder and became a branch manager. The company was satisfied with her work, they gave her a big raise and a car. Sometimes, when she was away at work, I would open her drawer and take out the pair of glasses that she used to keep there. These were her "Special reading glasses" as she called them. They were even stronger than the pair she usually wore, and she used them for close up work and reading. I enjoyed the feel of them pressing against my nose. It reminded me of her, I could be with her even when she was away, through the use of her glasses. I never told her about it, it meant nothing, just my sentiments for her, and my longing for her to come back home. I couldn't, of course, see too much with them, and wondered how it must feel for her to be without her glasses. Well, now I know what it feels like.
One day, I was walking around the house with her glasses on, trying not to bump into anything, when the phone rang. I ran and answered it. It was business. I set by the computer, completely forgetting her glasses were still on, and chatted for a couple of hours with the office. They wanted some data, which was to be found on some excel files on my computer, so I sent the files to them via Email, and then went over them with I disagreeistant. When the call was over, I realized her glasses were still on my nose, I didn't realized it up till now! How could that be? I took them off. The computer screen was a total blur. It took a while for my eyes to adapt and everything went back to normal. Or did it? What was happening? was I getting her bad sight like you get some sexual disease? My heart started to beat fast again, but this time in an anxious way.
After that incident I started wearing them more often, not telling her about it. She often told me that she couldn't see very far with that pair, that it was only for reading, too strong for her. Well, I could. I watched TV with them, cooked with them, shaved. I could always take them off, wait a few minutes for my eyes to focus and forget all about it. Probably something to do with how the eyes could accommodate, I told myself, nothing to worry about. But I was getting used to them. In fact, after a while, I stopped reading or working on the computer when she was in the house, because I couldn't get her glasses. It became my secret, something unknown to her. As if I was cheating on her with her glasses. I was afraid to tell her. I couldn't figure it out myself. You might ask yourself why I didn't go to see an eye doctor. Well, finally, I did.
“Joe," he told me, "You are farsighted, very farsighted. In fact I do not know how you managed all those years without glasses. You'd probably need to wear them for the rest of your life." I have become like her. Mutilated, dependant. People will gaze at my enlarged eyes on the street and whisper something to each other. Was I attracted to her the first time because some part of me knew that she held the key to my cure? I have become a beautiful freak, just like her. Love changes you.
Well, I didn't tell her. I held that prescription in my hand, OD: +11.75, OS: +12.00, pushed it in my pocket, tried to forget about it.
But a week later, I woke up, and my eyes felt strange. She was away for a whole day yesterday and I spent the entire day wearing her glasses on my nose. My eyes felt softer somehow, relaxed, peaceful. I opened them slowly, fearfully. Everything was a blur. My heart beat. I tried to focus, but found out that I couldn't. It was like in a dream, when you try to move or to shout, but can't. I knew that I was able to focus, but couldn't quite manage it, couldn't find the right path. I looked at her, the blur of her face. She probably looked back. "Honey," I said. "Can you give me your reading glasses?" I couldn't guess the look on her face. I couldn't see it. Something touched my hand, metal, glass, happiness. "Thank you." I put them on. Her look was puzzled.
"Can you see anything with them at all?" she asked. I hugged her. I began to cry. I showed her my prescription that I held in my pocket. She tried to console me. "Look at me," she said, "you love the way I look." I looked at her; her eyes swam in their round aquariums like two big whales looking for the plankton of emotions. I got up and went to the mirror. I was beautified. My eyes seemed even bigger than hers. "Will you still love me?" I asked. She hugged me; I knew that we were closer than ever, united.
This is a true sighting, from a recent visit to Istanbul. But I took the liberty and described my fantasies at that moment as well. They were a part of the experience.
It was summer. I went to Istanbul again, stayed in a cheap hotel and just traveled about the city, enjoying its diversity, its good people. I had this thing for Sutlach, that sweet rice pudding, burned on top, that you can only get in Istanbul. Well, you can get it in other places as well, but never as good as in Istanbul. So I went to a BHU shop, the one near the grand bazaar. The waiter, a young teenager, came and took my order. I sat there, eagerly waiting for my plate to arrive, when I saw her, standing by the door, shy, her gaze lowered. She was wearing glasses, set in a black metal frame. She raised her glance and the first thing that I noticed were her huge eyes behind her thick lenses, playing inside those diamond aquariums, surrounded by all kind of reflections. My heart stopped. I'm not sure why, for some reason that beautiful girl who probably believed herself to be an invalid, an ugly freak, took my breath away. Was she a waitress here as well? I signaled her. She tried to ignore my gesture but I didn't let her. She came by. My heart was beating hard. I wanted to take my clothes off, hold her hand and jump naked into those blue-white pools inside her lenses. Those thick lenses, those semi-precious diamonds, which made her eyes glitter like magical animals, independent and free. "Yes?" her gaze was lowered, not looking at me.
"Is my Sutlach coming?".
"I'll check, sir." She's gone, swallowed inside a BHU sweets parlor. The crowd passed around me, going to the market, to work, to church, oblivious to the beauty that was hidden inside. I only wanted to go and meet my love. My new love. "Excuse me!" Oh, that lowered gaze again. You can look straight at me! I thought. I think that you are beautiful, the most beautiful creature on earth. But how do I tell her that?
"Yes?" she came nearer.
"Hmmm. well..." I hesitated, then recovered my courage, "I'm new to this city, can I meet you when your shift is finished?" She raised her glance, then lowered it again, blushing. So beautiful! I'm addicted to her, the complete "her" with her glasses on and everything. It doesn't seem that you could separate her from these glasses (the way you could separate her from her clothes), they are a part of her.
"Me? out?" she was puzzled. You could see every emotion and thought under the microscope of her huge lenses, she couldn’t hide anything. In order to see, she had to show. Even now, when I write this, with heavy glasses that press against my nose, It makes my heart beat hard.
It took a while, but I fell in love with her, and she with me. I won't bother you with all the details; you've probably heard it all a million times, teenage love, nothing more famous or mysterious. A total enigma, God's own happiness.
What I do want to tell you is how I myself became mutilated, or found out that I was born mutilated and didn't know about it. I mean mutilated in a good sense, as in chosen, special, beatified. I'll try to make myself clear as I go along. But will say right now: I wouldn't trade my condition now for what it was before. I love my glasses. But I'm getting carried away.
After a while, we moved together. I moved all my businesses to Istanbul and rented an apartment with her. Life was good; she continued to work for BHU. But my love for her gave her new courage, and soon she climbed up the ladder and became a branch manager. The company was satisfied with her work, they gave her a big raise and a car. Sometimes, when she was away at work, I would open her drawer and take out the pair of glasses that she used to keep there. These were her "Special reading glasses" as she called them. They were even stronger than the pair she usually wore, and she used them for close up work and reading. I enjoyed the feel of them pressing against my nose. It reminded me of her, I could be with her even when she was away, through the use of her glasses. I never told her about it, it meant nothing, just my sentiments for her, and my longing for her to come back home. I couldn't, of course, see too much with them, and wondered how it must feel for her to be without her glasses. Well, now I know what it feels like.
One day, I was walking around the house with her glasses on, trying not to bump into anything, when the phone rang. I ran and answered it. It was business. I set by the computer, completely forgetting her glasses were still on, and chatted for a couple of hours with the office. They wanted some data, which was to be found on some excel files on my computer, so I sent the files to them via Email, and then went over them with I disagreeistant. When the call was over, I realized her glasses were still on my nose, I didn't realized it up till now! How could that be? I took them off. The computer screen was a total blur. It took a while for my eyes to adapt and everything went back to normal. Or did it? What was happening? was I getting her bad sight like you get some sexual disease? My heart started to beat fast again, but this time in an anxious way.
After that incident I started wearing them more often, not telling her about it. She often told me that she couldn't see very far with that pair, that it was only for reading, too strong for her. Well, I could. I watched TV with them, cooked with them, shaved. I could always take them off, wait a few minutes for my eyes to focus and forget all about it. Probably something to do with how the eyes could accommodate, I told myself, nothing to worry about. But I was getting used to them. In fact, after a while, I stopped reading or working on the computer when she was in the house, because I couldn't get her glasses. It became my secret, something unknown to her. As if I was cheating on her with her glasses. I was afraid to tell her. I couldn't figure it out myself. You might ask yourself why I didn't go to see an eye doctor. Well, finally, I did.
“Joe," he told me, "You are farsighted, very farsighted. In fact I do not know how you managed all those years without glasses. You'd probably need to wear them for the rest of your life." I have become like her. Mutilated, dependant. People will gaze at my enlarged eyes on the street and whisper something to each other. Was I attracted to her the first time because some part of me knew that she held the key to my cure? I have become a beautiful freak, just like her. Love changes you.
Well, I didn't tell her. I held that prescription in my hand, OD: +11.75, OS: +12.00, pushed it in my pocket, tried to forget about it.
But a week later, I woke up, and my eyes felt strange. She was away for a whole day yesterday and I spent the entire day wearing her glasses on my nose. My eyes felt softer somehow, relaxed, peaceful. I opened them slowly, fearfully. Everything was a blur. My heart beat. I tried to focus, but found out that I couldn't. It was like in a dream, when you try to move or to shout, but can't. I knew that I was able to focus, but couldn't quite manage it, couldn't find the right path. I looked at her, the blur of her face. She probably looked back. "Honey," I said. "Can you give me your reading glasses?" I couldn't guess the look on her face. I couldn't see it. Something touched my hand, metal, glass, happiness. "Thank you." I put them on. Her look was puzzled.
"Can you see anything with them at all?" she asked. I hugged her. I began to cry. I showed her my prescription that I held in my pocket. She tried to console me. "Look at me," she said, "you love the way I look." I looked at her; her eyes swam in their round aquariums like two big whales looking for the plankton of emotions. I got up and went to the mirror. I was beautified. My eyes seemed even bigger than hers. "Will you still love me?" I asked. She hugged me; I knew that we were closer than ever, united.