The Sink Was Full Of Fishes

That moved her within: it wasn't the flattering speech of her teacher, Melania was used to get that kind of appreciation since her first went into primary school; she got moved realizing that the small, timeless tweed-clothed lady, with her hair in between red and grey tied all time with heavy art deco worked combs, with those glasses on the verge of the pointing little nose, and the thin chain landing softly in the bend of her neck, would have been much missed. Yeah, also that minute, sometimes pedantic teacher was being part of her life in London. She felt sorry about she hadn't a man yet to dedicate her off days to, and for a quick instant she imagined her teacher into item with the Director of the school, and she smiled thinkin that was a good idea. Melania was having date with Jill at Charing Cross, not far away from Trafalgar Square, with its fountains and its obelisk. The plan was to go at National Gallery, to let her see the stunning artistry there.The massive building, got two flights of stairs aside, leading underneath a colonnade overhung from a triangular tympanum, just like a piece of an ancient Greek Temple were in the very middle of London, beside the not small note unfavourable to teh scene that a very big Dome up the Gallery was composing more the portrait of White House Melania had seen years before in Washington. When they were about to step in, she decided for watchin immediately the Sainsbury wing of the museum, at the left side of it, which was opened from merely four years then. She didn't feel it that stranger from the main building, unlike the majority of Britons, guided by an horrified Prince Charles, who had called it "pimple". Then Jill asked what she was lookin for after and she said:
"Oh, the 800's paintings and Impressionistes, and Renoir with all his ladies glowing with health..."
And so they went to the right, where the offerings from 1750/1920 were placed. The girl stayed astounded from French genius canvas "Les parapluies" as the face, framed by the golden flaming hair of the lady with the basket was defining for her the untoucheable serenity taht only spiritual creatures can have, and which was so similar, due to the sweet and perfect look in her eyes to certain facial expressions of her man she was having aside. Monet's Ninfeas disappointed her instead, she was expecting more vibrant colours watchin them for real and not on a book sheet, and she compared them after with the real energy of Van Gogh's "Sunflowers", totally praising the man who was capable to find peace within his troubled mind only by throwing rivers of pure colours on the surfaces of canvas, like his poisoned blood and all his pain was then outside from him, even if just for a fugitive time. Melania could see the gesture of the frenzy Vincent, and a shiver was into her, thinkin of such a danger creating such marvels for the posterity. Jill's favourite sight was Klimt's "Ermione Gallia": he was an admirer of the artist, and he adored the golden, rich textures he used on the most famous pieces. Jill was also loving the redhaired women he painted, their expressivity struck in no easy to decode languages somewhere between sexuality and melancholia, in between sapphic and bloodless. In the end, they visited again the Sainsbury location, filled with many Italians creations. The Filippo Lippi "Annunciazione" and moreover the amazing Leonardo's "Cartone" portraying Saint Anna with The Virgin and little Jesus and little Baptiste, made the two wordless, and they would have thought a fair thing even to become sightless, after tasting such a perfect composition of art. They said to one another that in humans there must be something good, innerly good, when among humans people like Leonardo could blossom and give testify for mastering forever and ongoing.
When it was time to end the visit, they looked at the clock and they admitted it was practically time to go back home, but Jill had more for her to see, and from Orange Street they went into Leicester Square, a lovely corner of the town with a little garden in the middle.
"Have you ever got to touch Chaplin's walkin stick?" he asked her. She didn't guessed totally what he meant, and while walkin she didn't even realized where he was guiding her "Well, dear, now you can!"
So Meli faced up the bronze sculpture of the great actor and director, the real mask of deepest humourism, the one which can guess the tragedy behind the smiles, and the tears behind the laughter.
"Mmhhh.. that's peculiar.. but it doesn't really look anything like him?"
"You may be right..."
"But the curved stick's a must!"Meli said.
"Just like the pointing shoes!"He added.
Then they stared at one another's eyes. And they taised out, such a typical situation lately between them: they were at times crossing their eyes, and getting raped almost by a feelings whirlwind which was leaving them wordless. It was in those moment, so emotional, than the sound of silence was becoming the best way to declare their reciprocal love, and anyway they were both forceless in those seconds, like lost in voids which could make the reality around them disappear within a sudden flame, and like in the whole Univers there weren't anything else, but them watchin one another.
"From here, we could take for Shaftesbury walkin into there" Said Jill pointing at Wardour Street " or we can also take Coventry and arrive at Trocadero, for takin a look at all the best and all the worst from all around the world..."