Derek Haines's blog

A Time of Pain

My guest blogger today is Valerie Brooks. Better know to some as Valiant Val. Her writing style has impressed me ever since we crossed each other’s path by some weird but fortunate flash of fate for me. So please read on and ‘feel’ the wonderful hard edge in Valerie’s words.

A Time of Pain

“I am here,” I whisper breathlessly, yearning for you to appear to me. Our secret place, where we used to always meet, where I find myself alone again. The night is still, the air cool against my skin. I shiver, naked and cold. If only I could feel your warmth again, to feel your arms encompass me, pulling me into the safest place I know. Where have you gone, my love? My soul is empty without you, my life a void of bleak existence. Are you punishing me? Oh, what have I done for you to leave me alone and afraid.

I fall to my knees, feeling the rocky surface breaking the flesh on my knees. Yet the only pain I feel is the absence of you. I beg of you, my love, return to me! A gust of wind beats against me, bringing with it a steady chilling rain. My tears mingle with the falling drops, falling over my cheeks, icy freezing slivers left as tracks. “I’m so sorry,” I barely manage as my grief consumes me and I fall on the rocks beneath me. I lie frozen, staring into the dark chasm in front of me, I am empty, I am dead without you. I am frozen. My eyes close against the pain, I am consumed by darkness.

“I am here.”

Could it be?

“I am here, my love.” Your mimicked words pierce my mind as I feel myself being lifted from my frozen sorrow. I surrender to your warmth, your arms holding me against your chest. I press my ear against you, needing to hear your heartbeat. I am calmed. The warmth of you begins to melt away the icy cold. I surrender. I am yours. Please take me with you, I plead in my mind.

Your lips press against mine as you hold me closer. I reach up to your face, I need to feel you. “Look at me,” you demand, but I cannot. I cannot open my eyes. I shake my head no, and feel the darkness reaching out to me from my heart. I want to stay here with you, my love, forever.

You walk, carrying me for what seems like forever. I will not complain, forever, with you is where I want to be. Feeling you next to me, near me, in me. I sleep, comforted by you. Upon waking I feel I am on a soft pile of pillows, I sense you are in the room with me, but I will not open my eyes. You come to me, pressing your body against mine, I am consumed. I can see the emerald blaze of your eyes in my mind as I feel you press your face into my neck, your hands exploring my body. It’s ecstasy, you against me. I wonder if you feel it too? The weight of you pressing down on me arouses my very essence, the stubble of growth on your chin raking across my skin only serves as an aphrodisiac, rocking me to my core. “I love you,” I moan, feeling the heat of your breath against the side of my face.

You pin my arms above me with one of yours, asserting the control you have over me. I will always surrender to you. My love, the man I trust. “Look..at..me,” you command in a whisper against my ear. I slowly open my eyes, tears begin falling, I am unable to stop them. Again, you are gone. Again, the emptiness consumes me as I roll over in bed staring out the window as the sun begins its trudging journey across the sky. Another day I have to survive without you, my love. Come back to me tonight, oh please return to me.


Find more of Valerie’s writing on her blog or follower her on Twitter


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Why Paris Sucks

Bellanda in Paris is my guest blogger today. Explaining what it's like to live in beautiful, romantic Paris. The city of love.

Ahhhh… Paris! City of lights… City of romance… City of love! I mean really, could a city like this ever really suck? I’m not going to go over all of the things that make this city incredible, because frankly, I think we all pretty much know that already. I am however going to take a closer look at some of the things that could happen in a typical day based on personal experience. We all know this city is indeed a truly amazing place to visit, but whether you are a tourist or a resident, there are some things one can’t deny… Paris can and does suck at times.

Oh, I can feel some of you getting your defences in an uproar, ready to pounce and defend one of the most beautiful cities in the world, but just hold off for a moment. Let’s start simple.

Ever notice the number of cute little dogs prancing around on leashes or being carried in those stylish bags by their owners? One might say that these French dogs are cute, chic even, until you’ve ruined a truly lovely pair of shoes stepping in their not so chic poo.

Now, I’m certainly not saying that no one in Paris cleans up after their dogs… but I am saying that for this typical day, you might want to wear galoshes so you can clean them easily if and when the occasion presents itself. Things get a little more complicated if you are fashion conscious. I know, you might decide to wear those gorgeous shoes you bought especially for Paris. I can’t blame you, but I can warn you that you will need to learn how to walk like a Parisian.

Ready? It really is quite simple and I bet you won’t even need to practice before venturing out on your own. Before you take your first step outside, look down. Keep your head down, and watch your every step along the way. Now, you might say to yourself, okay, but I will miss the Eiffel Tower, gorgeous buildings, cute little cobblestone streets and shops. To that I say, yes, but you can’t expect to have it all now… can you?

Ah, you are a quick study and you’ve arrived at the Metro with your shoes in perfect condition! How wonderful! You can pick your head up and look forward again. Well, actually… to be safe, I recommend you look in all directions with your hands on your phone, wallet and anything else you hold dear. This usually makes holding onto that dirty pole inside the metro car a challenge, but you are in luck! You get to experience a partial metro strike, so you won’t have to hold on at all! Just remember to use your body and push like crazy when the doors open, because you don’t want to let go of those important things. If you can get inside the metro car, you have proved yourself worthy of being canned like a sardine with all of those Parisians and should feel a little less like an outsider. Don’t worry, the little old woman screaming at you, is just upset because you stepped on her foot by mistake.

Oh, check this out! This really is your lucky day! Due to the lack of space inside the metro car, now no one can hit you up for money. Add that to the fact that it is not summer! This means you are limited to just the regular pee smells one normally deals with. It also means your skin will not be rubbing against someone else’s sweaty flesh! Oh, I almost forgot. Try not to be alarmed or offended by those wandering hands that “accidentally” touch you. I’m sure they were just trying to rob you and didn’t mean to feel you up. I know you are not worried as you’ve taken my advice and have that covered. You will be going home with your wallet today!

You are doing well! You’ve arrived at your metro stop, but apparently the majority of the people in the train with you have too, and now you have been pushed out. I know you wanted to wear those really great shoes, but they have caused you to fall in the mad rush of people and you have hurt your ankle.

You’re new here, so you are an optimist and say to yourself happily, “I can’t believe I’m in Paris! I’m not going to let a little injury like this get me down. ” You look around at the metro map. What a truly miraculous underground system! You smile while listening to some musicians playing for their keep, while a drunken man sits with comatose eyes and another is screaming profanities at everyone who walks by. You really didn’t want to sit anyway, so you’ll just hobble your way to the exit.

You start following those superbly labeled signs, SORTIE. You might even giggle to yourself that you are like trained rats going upstairs, then downstairs… down long tunnels, turning, oh wait SORTIE, more stairs going up. You really would have liked to help that poor woman with the baby carriage go up the stairs, but your ankle is killing you. As you walk down what appears to be your last long tunnel before going up more stairs, you ask yourself what all new people to this lovely city do, “What does someone who's handicapped do?”

Oh, don’t fret your pretty little head about details like that, you are in Paris! Besides, you really need to go and buy a few things before heading back to that two room apartment you are renting for 1600 Euros a month.

You’ve managed to find everything you need at the supermarket, and only had one person flailing arms and making that Phiff sound behind you because you were moving too slowly. Oops! You picked the wrong line. Isn’t that always the way? Even in Paris you manage that! You chuckle at the humor of the situation, as another register opens up. You politely offer the first spot to the people in front of you, only to get trampled by those behind you. Okay, that one surprised you, but hey, you’re in Paris! It’s your turn and once you have paid for not only your groceries, but your bags, you are ready to go home. Thank goodness you live around the corner!

A woman smiles at you as she passes you, and you smile back, proving to everyone around you that you are both expats but you don’t care, this is Paris! You are now living in Paris! You are caught up in your thoughts and forget to look down, and of course just in front of your doorway, you realize you should have worn those galoshes. But hey, this is Paris and a little dog poo never killed anyone. Besides a real Parisian once told me, “I can’t believe all the merde de chien there is in Nice!”

So, silly me! How could I ever have thought to say Paris sucks? Just walking you through a typical day warms my heart. My apologies… I love Paris, in spite of itself. ;)


Bellanda in Paris


You can find out more about Bellanda and her art, creations and life in Paris.

At her website http://bellandaphoto.com/

On Facebook. http://www.facebook.com/BellandaCreations?ref=sgm

Or on Twitter. @BellandaInParis

Derek's Vandal Blog
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Young Love. Aaawww!

Of course I have noticed young love before. There is nothing more beautiful, wonderful and alluring as noticing a young couple exhibiting their feely, touchy, public exchange of saliva type of performance in the street. The incessant need for hand holding and the accompanying ‘yes, please take me now’ eye contact that would have had Barbara Cartland racing back to her castle to pen yet another trashy romance novel for Mills & Boon.

What I hadn’t noticed before though, was the reaction of the people who were also noticing the same exhibition of young love as I was witnessing. Here was an even greater palette of expressions that you would not want to be seen in public wearing on your face.

From the clucky look that women only normally reserve for confrontations with new born babies minus the aahhingh, gaaing and gitchy, gitchy gooing of course associated with this silly expression, to looks of rabid lust on old men’s faces that instantly gives away their wish that life had been more opportunistic for them.

Then there are the looks of horrid distain from the skyward projecting noses of old spinsters whose time never came. And now never will. Wearing the mouths of someone who had recently sucked on a lemon or had been the leading lady in an Aesop’s Sour Grapes production.

Then there are the looks of jealousy from the young ones who either haven’t quite reached their prime or are yet to find their mate whose saliva matches the chemical need of their brain to confirm that they have found their lifetime soulmate. There are also naturally looks of indispersed apathy, ignorance, tongue dropping and blind green envy.

The most noticeable look though was one of knowing, experience and ‘Oh my god, been there, done that!’ Of a time in the future when the rose petals die and you are left with only brown thorny sticks. When technicolor turns so quickly to black and white. When lust must learn to become real love very quickly, or there is the danger that the fire will get extinguished in painful microseconds.

Is there anything more beautiful than young love?

Yes. When just rarely, if you are very lucky and extremely observant, you see an elderly couple still holding hands, still with that unmistakable eye contact, still in love after all the hard years life has dealt them, on the very same street corner.

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