Saturday, 13 June 2020

Dominique.

Once upon a time there was a woman called Dominique. She was Indian, or so I assume. At least she lived in India – Mumbai, I think.

She used to comment fairly regularly on my blog but hasn’t done so for many years. I’ve mentioned her a few times, praising the way she wrote which was quiet and succinct yet suffused with far more meaning than the number of words would seem to allow. So why am I talking about her again?

Well, because I’ve been reading a lot of old posts recently and I keep coming across her comments. And I’ve noticed something quite extraordinary. Never in all my life have I experienced such a strong sense of a person’s physical presence drifting into my consciousness from the power of their words alone. It’s as though some misty, ethereal form manifests in the room, smiling one of those smiles one might expect of a benevolent and truly wise person. Quiet yet strong, non-judgemental, perceptive and intuitive.

Am I being fanciful? Possibly; life is uncomfortable at the moment and chronic discomfort can wreak havoc with the mind’s regular functions. But I still miss her after all these years.

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