MARBLE CHILD

|| c h a p t e r o n e ||

Love's Philosphy

The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean;
The winds of heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in this world is single,
All things by a law divine
In one another's being mingle-
Why not I with thine?

See the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdain'd its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea -
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou  kiss not me?

         ~ Percy Bysshe Shelly

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Flutter of tea-hearts and one non-existent, more metaphoric like the words explaining abstract. The hammer and flat sided chisel awoken two porcelain skinned and one marble skinned; fresh,spicy wind of life. Veronicas, stocks and gerberas in clay pots even noticed the change of the atmosphere. An aesthetic confusion of an artistic mess of tragedy. This is the birth of the blooming melancholic yet lovely story.

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A small butterfly dancing between marble fingers, the viridity of it is the very thing highlighting out the winged-insect's beauty. Phaeton appreciates the small things, almost forgotten things the marble boy loves. The sound of Apus and Columba weaving flower crowns ; Apus struggling and Columba's flowery giggles. Xanthus probably inside painting a portrait of them, while joking with those two porcelain bodies. Phaeton has a small habit of observing everything and everyone in his vicinity. Nature is his favourite subject to just sit, stare and daydream. He explores often, while the petrichor is fresh and droplets drip on his marbled skin. The words out of his mouth are abstract ; poetic in a sense of of how distorted your mind must become to understand. Nature, rain and figs on the tongue, poetry, body art and cloud watching is all thrown into a living statue Phaeton. Even though he speaks like watercolours mingling in ink, he speaks little. He's like a sunset over an ocean, amaranthine which is quiet, sometimes speaking.

The butterfly -- turtleback butterfly rests on his finger. The paper-like wings at standstill to appreciate the insect. So delicate. Columba comes running; gypsophilia, lavender and white roses flower crown in her hand. The sun is smiling, she is the sun yet so delicate...

Columba gently puts it on his head, he raises an eyebrow. "I made one for you.", she's constantly postive and happy -- viridity still in her soul.

She has two more flower crowns, one on her head: red roses, wild flowers and white lilies ; the other in her hand is ferns, yesterday-today-and-tomorrows and irises. He points to the one on her head,"Oh this Phaeton! Xanthus made it!", sweetness leaked like a cracked sugar lot in her voice. Flowers bloom in her heart.

- Phaeton's heart cracks a little...So delicate

"It looks like the red sun kissing the sky once it opened its eyes.", Phaeton stares at the butterfly.

She sighs in content,"You are so strange."

"I know..."

Heavier footsteps come near, the smell of paint and wild flowers heavy. Phaeton looks up and noticed how they tangle their pinkies together, small smiles.