17
Henna was a plant that turned into the powder that was mixed
with water and made my forearm partially starry while a spaceship “landed” on
my body. That was an ability not yet learned by the hands of mine, a corporeal craft
that met a joyful craftswoman who drew a not so identifiable figure at first, which
I learned to appreciate after.
The image would fade away slowly.
When least expected, its intense tones would become midtones. I scrubbed the
drawing spot noting that it was okay not to be so careful, for it was indeed supposed
to vanish eventually. Well-informed people will say certain artificial chemical
compounds vastly expressed by their symbolic formulas will make the paint
components dangerous. Gladly I had no allergic reactions to the Nature elements
that made my temporary tattoo a consistent work of art now hidden underneath my
long-sleeve shirt.
Moni has kept her feet shoeless in
my dwelling. She said that according to feng
shui,
shoes would bring impurities
from the outside to the inside of the house. It seems that the Henna’s
leaves serve
us well decoratively and as purifiers of the air at some point of their
lives,
just like peppermint gave a regular restroom a distinct pleasurable
smell that cunningly masked a smelly condition present in the
atmosphere. (…)
~
