Thirteen stripes and fifty stars. A long straight tangle of blonde hair are intensely looking at that curios disposition of red white and blue.
It is with couscous calm that I approach the bench in front of the painting on which she is sitting. An abundant foot of distance between us and yet I can feel her. I can feel her warmth even though the room is cold, refrigerated by too much air-conditioning.
"Most people know that the stars represent the states composing the nation, but - I say casually and with a low voice as she turns searching for the source of it - have you ever wondered why the stripes are exactly thirteen?"
I turn my head and greet her raising my eyebrows. Our eyes lock.
-" I have never e really though about it - she replies bashfully - I am not American you see."
"Neither am I - I say with a little pause- they represent the thirteen original colonies that fought in the war for independence."
She stares into my eyes and so do I. The deep green of wild nature shrinks as her pupil enlarges.
" If I may be so bold, they are black, right?"
I ask.
-"What?"
She smiles embarrassed.
"Your lingerie"
She covers her white trousers with her black shirt and looks at the floor. I bring my eyes back to the painting.
" It is far too late for that - I say smiling than I gaze at her - there is nothing to be ashamed of. If I have offended you, I apologize and..."
-" Did you like them?"
She says without looking at me.
"Well - chuckle - I would say so."
-" Do you want to see them again? Properly this time..."
"There is a toilet at the beginning of the stairs, they are usually quite clean in the mornings" I reply.
-" Two minutes" she stands up and walks away as I count the stripes over and over.
