THE NEW ISLAND was full of old buildings. Ancient stones were elegantly woven with ivy and flower-like rotundas sat on top many of them like squat bell towers. The mantels on each upper level blossomed like creamy ferns.
She walked beside her husband, fingers interlocked in his, as they enjoyed the island’s quiet alluring charm. While its appearance was quite ordinary, there was a soft and unspoken enchantment wafting all through the streets. From the ivy-lined alleys to the cobblestone plazas, a sensation of unshed ancient magic tickled their noses.
It was thrilling and engaging all at once. The potentiality of such a sensation stirred them both to excitement, since that kind of feeling meant adventure, a real adventure, which they were, normally, always eager to pursue.
Together, it seemed, there was no danger that could daunt them.
Sighing contently, she shared a brief smile with him, heart radiating warmth at the sweet happy smile he gave back. He was beaming like a sunray, illuminative and revealing. She sighed once more, squeezing his hand.
They had been together for nearly four years and in all that time, she had never once grown tired of him. Oh, there had been questions of if she really should focus all her attention on him and instead divert it to personal projects, religious projects, spiritual projects, social projects, or scholarly projects. And while she still did have all her other projects, he was still…
The late sunlight highlighted the street they were on, the golden and rosy rays turning the red-brown cobblestones to burnished carnelians. Each one burned like a tiny miniature fire.
As she recalled, that was how it had all begun. The fiery energy her husband created in her by the act of loving of him. And then she wondered – what was love?
At her first thought, she thought love should be something magical and enchanting like this new city. It should take one’s breath away, leave one gaping and yet wiser and better for having known of it. It was constantly growing, eternally moving whether there was an end in sight or not. Love would remain constant even when all else failed. It was the strongest force in the world.
And there were so many rich, wonderful, passionate, sentimental, meaningful loves out there! A thousand and more counting. It was endless, as endless as these streets felt, twisting backwards and around as if they were an elaborate design.
Love then made the world thrive. The ancient histories of the world thrived on love; the ancient cities thrived on love in the same way. Those who loved their city, those who loved the city from afar, and those who loved the history of the city – all three held a different kind of love in their hearts. Thus of all things, love is the most endless.
Hand in hand with her husband, she watched the golden smears of dusk mingle like saffron, yellow pollen landing on the plump purple and round raspberry petals of the sky and its clouds. It was as if a bit of magic had touched the sky and left the heavens in a beautiful wonderland.
The sight nearly left her breathless and she found she was happy to be sharing it with her husband. There was no one else1 she could image exploring the unknown with, as each breath she took carried with it a little more magic from this ancient dazzling city of eternal love.
1 …except perhaps her friend…
Word Count: 584
Written: 9 August 2011 / Revised: 18 May 2014