Character Sketch deux… ou trois…

One of my favorite types of writing to do lately is character sketches… I have so much fun picking out the first, most obvious things I see in people, and bringing them to life on the page.  Here are a few more.  I hope you like them!IMG_1396


When he’s around, you flush all over- your neck, your cheeks, your arms.  You want him so much your heart pounds and your mouth grows dry from the short, quick breaths you take.  But these are little things, things he doesn’t see.  Somehow, miraculously, you can speak with perfect eloquence when he’s around, you express yourself beautifully.  Only those who know you best might see something in you is straining, that you stand on your toes when you speak, that your eyes are bright and you often look down, unable to contain the smile that comes to your lips.

Is this love, or is this the beginning of infatuation?


You tremble when you speak.  I cannot pin down what it is that trembles, I just know it is happening.  Trying to pinpoint the source of the trembling is like following a fuzzy spot in your eye- it climbs and it climbs, steadily eluding you.  It is always there, but until you stop following it, it never stays in one place.

I watch you struggle for words, barely catching them, and then letting your sentences pour out like a flood.  You are so relieved to have turned the key in the lock, to feel safe and normal in the practice of conversation.  You have dark stains between your teeth that betray your pack-a-day habit, and behind your dark sunglasses, small, nervous eyes.  You speak of your mate who blew his entire inheritance on booze and hash, and then burned down his beautiful bungalow.  I look at you as you speak and wonder how close you are with him, how similarly your minds might work.


You are the happiest person in the world.  Your hair is bouncy and your blue eyes shine.  Actually, your blue eyes often live elsewhere, in the mountains, in your memories of the sea.  Your iris’s are pinpricks, and when you are excited, they blaze.  You practice vipassana and screaming therapy, and everything else in the world, and amazingly, I think it’s working!  You wear elf socks with a split in the toe, so that you can slip your thongs on over them.  You roll spliffs late at night, and get as paranoid as the rest of us, tucking your knees to your chest.  But as everyone else wanders off, and it’s down to you and I, you start giggling again, and make me stay to watch the moon, as it rises, full, against the sky.


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