rafael nadal:NEW YORK: May 2010

439 Days

62 Weeks and 5 Days

Part I

"Hey, Runaway. Where are you going?"
"Not far," she says
"Yeh? Then why the big suitcase?"

"Oh, Runaway! You're back? It's been 15 months now? 17? Dang, that's a year 'nd a half ago. I must be losing m'marbles"
"Feels like forever, Mister."
"So where'dja go?"
"Let's just say, the desert's really is dry 'nd tumbl'weeds are all 'roun. I saw a llama and a million sheep. The oceans are hot and cold I find. But you know what. People are the same everywhere."

Part II

"Runaway? You're off again? Where to this time?"
"Somewhere endless. Like eighty-thousand pineapple fields all in rows," she looks left then right. "Where the mountains are healthy. Probably somewhere you don't have to fear for others, I mean, well, you know?"
"...You know?"
"That place. My Timbuktu."
"...Take me with you? I know I'm old and you don't know my name but I'd like this last adventure"
"I'll bury you in the Aegean Sea."

Part III

Walking some and then some more, "Mister, why are you alone?"
"My Lady won over my heart seventy years ago in the tenth day of Spring. But, though she was as beautiful as she was feisty, her heart was weak. In the summer some ten years ago, in her best date-dress, she simply... lay," his head lowered just the slightest.
"I-I-I'm sorry for your loss, Mister."
"No no, Runaway. I foun' the most beautiful woman and ev'ryday was Spring."

Part IV

"We've been walk'ng three whole months now, Runaway. The Igbo folks were incred'bly nice. And you're right about the water. I simply can't believe all those frosted mountains," Wonderment in his eyes; a glimmer of excitement.
"...was there anything, well, you hated about her?"
"'Hate' is quite the word. Not hate, kind'a like brushed off. You know, only some things drove me crazy. Then again, I know she wasn't havin' my doings"
"But... ev'ryday was Spring?"
"Ev'ryday"

"I try to imagine myself in your boots, Mister"
"How?"
"Because, I can't live in one place for more than a day. And you 'n your lady stayed in the place for a century."
"I'm not like you, Runaway,"
"I-I-I don't know what warm earth feels like. I don't know what a bed, or a pillow, or a towel feels like."
"Runaway, I've been walking 'round with you for nine months, and you can't understand why it is you walk?"
"Not anymore."

Part V

"Happy ninety-sixth Birthday, Mister."
"Thanks, Runaway."
"We're almost there now. We just have to pass the olive trees, ov'r... right there."
"My, already?"
"It's been a while, Mister. I, myself, have never walked for so long."

"It was a beautiful day in summer, Runaway"
She sits on a pile of fallen olives. Squishing half of them, but my, it is comfy.
"We were going to go to the pier. Watch the yachts groan and jostle in the marina. It was our favourite thing to do. She put on that dress," his heart, starting to pump deeply, "...then her fan shaped earrings. I suppose, if she had to choose in which way to go... that would have been one of 'em. Looking beautiful, not a stain of regret,"

Part VI

Runaway places her hand on his shoulder and guides him.
"The other way probably would have been just as she was finishing up baking. So the house smelled pleasant. She was a painter. So everything she did, was orchestrated to be picture-perfect,"
Their pant legs slowly gathered water. Filling them with cold, dense water. The soft tide barely noticeable.

Part VII

Three hours later. Pants soaked in the salty and unapologetically cold Mediterranean. The sun is clocking-in for the mornings hours. Runaway leads him further into the water, so his toes are gripping the shallow ledge of the ocean, his shadow is cast far from his body. A weird realization of a life in search for an answer was materialized in this scene of life right before the end. They can see the edge of what will be his final fifty breaths.
"You know, you can probably live another hundred years, Mister"
"I know, Runaway. But my Lady and I fought two days before she passed. That fight wasn't about anything really, it was about how the window was open all day, and a bird came in and destroyed the kitchen," He scratches at his beard, his face is still handsome but tired, "But it's the only fight I truly rem'mber. And the way I yelled at her... keeps playing in my head. Like a movie reel that plays only the ending, then keeps spinning with the light on. I simply cannot live anoth'r day without her."

With a slight push, Runaway sent him into the pit of the Aegean. His body floated silently for only a fleeting moment till it drifted to the canyon below.

Runway turned around, without a moment's remorse, and continued to walk. Her life's travels brought to fruition.

rafael nadal:NEW YORK

439 Days, 62 Weeks and 5 Days Part I

Spring 2010 Collection

Jay-Z & Beyonce Perform "Young Forever"

The Wedding

some projects

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