Sweetness

Sometimes I think adult life is all about armory and kevlar, the thickening of the skin, the fattening of that layer of lipids, that dam holding the rich red life we hold so dear. Children couldn't care less and so do the elderly among us, well, some of them at least. Now and then in our daily interactions, sometimes violent collisions, our skin breaks and when it leaks, it bleeds. Nothing tragic, really. We've all bled at some point and blood is something so common among bodies. Its just our focused attention to clothing that makes us forget.

But sweetness. Now that is just something so fine. Like a slice of Torta de la Trina. It is almost sinful like a child playing after bedtime or those days in university skipping class for that trip to the library, stroll in the park, or mooching off the finger-food buffet at art openings. It is that kind of "harmless" risk we put ourselves through (perhaps that necessary foolishness), like exploring physical proximity - handshakes - touch - kissing. Getting lost laughing about nothing at all and for that brief moment, your are naked and open and bare and you don't care. Sweetness can happen at any time. But why doesn't it happen as often? Maybe lose the jacket and the tie? =D