I'm neck deep in the river...I have my daily baths here... I shudder as the cold water reaches towards me with frigid fingers... As the cold seeps in... Her face flashes to my mind...Even on sultry summer days when I passed over her, she would always be cold... I called her hitana... gypsy in Spanish... She never stayed in one place...never...Sometimes, I would touch her in the West, sometimes in the East, Once even in cold Norway... That woman was always a mystery to me... I saw her transition from childhood to adulthood...Her eyes and body were always cold but her heart flooded with warmth...Her eyes were like tempered steel... like strong sterling..All her life no one knew her worth...she was an amazing artist... drawing since she was two... She was unwanted and unloved by all but me...She was the only...She was the only woman who came close to being my mate.. But she died young at the age of eighteen... and I remember how I howled and moaned that day... Everyone at her funeral was amazed when they saw her body float up in mid-air...I confess that was my doing... I wanted to hold her in my arms and say goodbye.. I’ve never touched anyone like her... cold and warm at the same time....
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