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24 FEBRUARY 2017
I sit marvelling at the presence of her Understated Elegance.
Transported by her beauty - I have to capture the moments - fleeting as they are.
Donna is gay and laughing - but I capture this ONE single moment - and I am looking straight into her very Soul.
Today is Donna Darkwolf's Birthday. We have been for breakfast at Ons Huisie in Blouberg - her favorite breakfast spot. For lunch at Grande Provence Wine Estate in Franschhoek, and on our drive thru the village main road, she wants to stop for tea at one of the many little pavement cafe restaurants.
As always, I prepare myself to witness the breath-stopping effect Donna will have upon the patrons, upon our entry.
As always, everyone looks normally drab.
And into their "collective moments" drifts Pricess Ineffable - this Serene Beauty.
The setting is perfect.
Small, cozy, (cramped) pavement cafe. We are seated at the juncture where the outside patio meets the inside atmospherics of espresso and confectionaries and music on a lazy Sunday afternoon.
Somewhere in France . . .
I cannot help but notice the occasionally turning heads. Turning toward the happy bubbling chatter of this movie star personality who has alighted like a sparkling butterfly - right in their midst.
The Darkwolf appears completely oblivious to the effect she has - so intent is she upon me . . . telling me her thoughts . . . holding and kissing my hands . . . expressing her innocent joy for the beautiful day we have adventured through.
Ever so often I have to disentangle my hands from hers, in order to take a photo.
Every body is watching her - but she looks only at me.
I lift my camera: "Compose yourself, Shiny Wife", I murmur.
"WAIT!", she responds.
And produces her mothers vintage, 14 Karat Gold, Cartier cigarette holder, that we were using as a prop earlier in some other photos.
Donna lifts her tea cup . . . "CLIK!"
The background music is changing in tempo.
As it starts to pick up, Donna says: "Why don't we dance? We can dance our way out of here", smiling mischeviously.
I know that glint in her eyes.
I tell her that I am going to go and pay the bill and - "When I get back to this table . . .
"BE READY! LADY!"
I walk over to the counter, pay our bill and turn to face Donna.
She has already packed her dark glasses and the cigarette holder into her hand-clasp - and now sits languidly at our table, her chin propped in one black-gloved hand - blowing a subtle moue of a kiss.
As I reach the table, I stand at attention - my right hand out to Donna, saying just loud enough for people near-by to hear:
"If it would Please Mi Lady..."
Donna stands and steps toward me. Taking my hand. I step back. She steps forward - her other hand on my shoulder.
I step back further. She steps right in close to me - her breasts against my chest,
as my arm wraps about her waist - gently turning her away from the table.
We kiss. The scent of her space-black hair engulfs me.
Stepping back, I twirl her out. She drifts away and swirls back. And we are AWAY!
Lost in our own romantic reverie. A slow waltz and cha-cha to the door.
As we reach the door - the patrons clap and cheer. We made their afternoon.
"Only us Waltzing Wolves. . .", she whispers excitedly as we leave - waltzing out of the door, across the patio, and onto the sidewalk.
The Darkwolf, caught in the late afternoon light, lasts forever.
The almost-smile. The direct gaze. The casual air of distracted un-concern. The mystery of this moment.
Donna loves the photo, when she sees it. Her: "It looks like somewhere in Paris!" gives me An Idea.
I rework the photo of Donna in PhotoShop.
Oh - let me sing to her >
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