sparkling gypsy eyes

I re-read some old journal entries recently. The entries were from almost exactly one year ago. I was trying to track down something I'd written that I was absolutely positive had found it's way here (it, in fact, hadn't - which I found very odd).

I did find what I'd written in that journal, on paper and realized that perhaps it had been too personal to put here. Maybe I wasn't ready to relinquish the giddiness completely. I know I told some people about it. We had discussions about falling platonically in love.

I read the entires over and over (turns out there were more than one about that same event; complete with ticket stub and handbill). I wanted that giddy feeling back. I wanted to remember that smile, those sparkling black eyes, that music, that feeling of being transported through time and space to somewhere indescribable. Mostly I think I wanted to remember the warmth of the smile, maybe the scent of that leather jacket, definitely that feeling of being enveloped in comfortable affection, the feeling that this was special somehow, that it didn't happen every day...

I look forward to seeing my Italian gypsy minstrel again. It's been far too long. I don't know if he will remember that night the way I did... but it doesn't really matter.

I remember.