Αφορά μια εκπαιδευτική προσέγγιση που εστιάζει στην αξιοποίηση της αφήγησης για την ενίσχυση της μάθησης. Η αφήγηση, ως στρατηγική, έχει αποδειχτεί ότι επηρεάζει θετικά τη μαθησιακή διαδικασία και τη συγκράτηση πληροφοριών. Η αφήγηση είναι ένας από τους αρχαιότερους τρόπους επικοινωνίας και εκπαίδευσης. Σύμφωνα με τον Bruner (1991), η αφήγηση συνδέει τις έννοιες με τις εμπειρίες των μαθητών και ταυτόχρονα προσφέρει μια συναισθηματική σύνδεση με το περιεχόμενο. Μέσα από την αφήγηση, οι μαθητές μπορούν να κατανοήσουν καλύτερα αφηρημένες έννοιες, καθώς η αφήγηση τους προσφέρει ένα πλαίσιο νοηματοδότησης και κατανοητής σύνδεσης με την καθημερινότητα.

Η ενσωμάτωση της αφήγησης στη διδασκαλία προσφέρει στους μαθητές μια πιο ολοκληρωμένη και διαδραστική εμπειρία μάθησης. Έρευνες δείχνουν ότι οι μαθητές που συμμετέχουν σε διαδραστικές αφηγήσεις είναι πιο πιθανό να εμπλακούν συναισθηματικά και να θυμούνται καλύτερα τις πληροφορίες (Frey, Fisher, & Everlove, 2009). Η αφήγηση, με τη χρήση χαρακτήρων, σκηνών και εξελίξεων, ενισχύει τη μάθηση με τρόπο που τα παραδοσιακά διδακτικά εργαλεία δεν μπορούν να επιτύχουν.

Εφαρμογή της αφήγησης στην τάξη

Η ενσωμάτωση της αφήγησης στη διδασκαλία απαιτεί μια στρατηγική προσέγγιση που να επιτρέπει στους μαθητές να συμμετέχουν ενεργά και να αναπτύξουν κριτική σκέψη. Η αφήγηση μπορεί να εφαρμοστεί μέσω διαφόρων μεθόδων, όπως οι αφήγησης ιστοριών από τον δάσκαλο, οι συμμετοχικές δραστηριότητες και οι ψηφιακές πλατφόρμες που επιτρέπουν στους μαθητές να δημιουργούν τις δικές τους αφηγήσεις (Green, 2010).

Μία από τις πιο κοινές μεθόδους ενσωμάτωσης της αφήγησης στη διδασκαλία είναι η δημιουργία ιστοριών γύρω από το διδακτικό περιεχόμενο. Επιπλέον, οι μαθητές μπορούν να αναπτύξουν τις δικές τους ιστορίες για να δείξουν τη διαδικασία επίλυσης του προβλήματος, ενισχύοντας έτσι τη δημιουργικότητα και την κριτική σκέψη.

Οφέλη της αφήγησης στη μάθηση

1. Βελτίωση της μνημονικής ικανότητας: Οι ιστορίες είναι πιο εύκολες να αποθηκευτούν στη μνήμη, καθώς η αφήγηση ενεργοποιεί συναισθηματικές και νοητικές διεργασίες που διευκολύνουν τη συγκράτηση πληροφοριών (Nicolopoulou, 2010).
2. Ανάπτυξη συναισθηματικής σύνδεσης: Οι μαθητές αναπτύσσουν συναισθηματική σύνδεση με τους χαρακτήρες της ιστορίας, κάτι που ενισχύει την αφομοίωση του περιεχομένου (Fitzgerald, 2012).
3. Ανάπτυξη κριτικής σκέψης και δημιουργικότητας: Η συμμετοχή σε αφηγηματικές δραστηριότητες ενθαρρύνει τη δημιουργικότητα και την ανάπτυξη κριτικής σκέψης, καθώς οι μαθητές καλούνται να δημιουργήσουν ή να αναλύσουν ιστορίες με βάση τις γνώσεις τους (Liu, 2007).

Κατερίνα Συμφέρη
Εκπαιδευτικός

• Bruner, J. (1991). Acts of meaning. Harvard University Press.
• Fitzgerald, J. (2012). Storytelling in education: Teaching, learning, and the narrative construction of meaning. Routledge.
• Frey, N., Fisher, D., & Everlove, E. (2009). The power of storytelling in the classroom. Scholastic.
• Green, M. (2010). Storytelling in education: Using narratives for learning and communication. Sage Publications.
• Liu, M. (2007). The role of storytelling in enhancing learning outcomes in the classroom. Journal of Education, 98(2), 23-45.
• Nicolopoulou, A. (2010). The role of storytelling in cognitive and social development. Psychological Science, 18(3), 271-277.

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Mastermind by Taylor Swift

You could say she had a diabolical mind. And if you expressed it to her face, she considered it a compliment, more so than when you praised her beauty. Her brain was thinking of all the possible versions of a plan. Ways out and solutions, in the exceptional case that she was faced with obstacles. And she always won the battles that unfolded in front of her. She always won. At any cost. Having in her quiver, bows steeped in the poison of wit that stood out on her forehead, she took out of contention every enemy who dared to set foot on the blood-stained land of emotions she claimed. You could say that her mind worked like a faithful clock that wakes its master when the sun rises and the moon disappears from the field of view of the human eye. A precious all-gold watch was her mind, adorned from head to toe with rose petals that the ghost of the dawn left behind, as she went to meet her secret lover behind the pointers of the clock that always struck midnight. Indeed, she had thought of everything. Every possible scenario, every self-destructive thought had crossed her mind. And always the gilded shell of her brain came to the same conclusion. In this particular solution. As if the stars and planets had aligned when the two of them found themselves in that room. As if they did it on purpose jokingly, they placed their fates on the wooden table of that low-ceilinged room and began to cut and sew their thread. Messing up the tangles of their existences, as if it were a badly written joke. She pushed that thought out of her mind and looked angrily at the sky. The stars, now pretending to hide under the sunlight, smiled at her mentally and subtly illuminated the path she had to follow. Gritting her teeth, she smiled at the male figure to her left who looked at her with wide eyes and grabbed the red marker in front of her. The male figure managed to whisper not to do what she had in mind, but she had already written on the board. They looked at the board at the same time and the red letters symbolized the start of war – they knew it themselves. Her name, written, was capable of causing the luck of both of them, leading to bad events. Which she might not have planned. Or she could have. After all, she was known as a true mastermind.

Her cold and trembling flustered hands deliberately let the red marker fall to the ground, making an irritating- dragging sound and laughing in her mind at her dramatic self, who always wanted to chase elusive dreams and make everything sparkle, born with the coveted Midas touch. She had the whole afternoon at her disposal, to face her opponent and create the plan that would bring her closer to the much-desired victory. And then, it would clearly show to that male shocked face that watched every twitch of her forehead, how much intelligence she had drilled into her thighs. She would show that sun-tanned face from the Italian land, with whom she had to do. What ancient powers birthed her mother and what bird’s beak quenched her never-before-seen bleeding lips,  for him to come and stand with such audacity in front of her. She was enchanted by this audacity. She made her temples tremble, at the dance of Enceladus and let her not admit it. It might have been a simple debate, but she thought it was a deadly power play. Who will be recognized as the most intelligent among the others. Who will lead the hungry wolves that were about to rush into civilization and devour it at once. She tried to concentrate her thoughts in the small mental boxes defined by the procedure and immediately got down to business, writing in detail what could be used against him. She had colorful markers next to her, but she preferred to use the red one. She imagined it would be his wasted blood, rolling down the paper and staining her cheeks red, every time he decided to pull her chair to watch her fall to the ground, always at lunchtime. She would soon show him that his little antics irritated her more than anything else. She didn’t dare admit that they made her heart skip a beat and her lower limbs freeze to death. Waiting to taste his eternal kiss. Nonsense, she whispered to herself. He was only an enemy. Nothing more. Nothing less. What she could not understand was that during wars, it is not forbidden to kiss your enemy. No one could tell if she hadn’t foreseen it.The smart ones do not analyze their plans, nor do they engage in small talk with the rest. Masterminds do not reveal their secrets. They act silently under the city lights. Αnonymously.

Her precious hand stretched out in pain as she caught herself writing on some scrap paper for over three hours.Her incomprehensible mind was already working overtime and she thought it was time to loosen up a little.Her allies proposed the same, having in the back of their heads, that she was their strong card and she should not withdraw from the first quarter, as they saw it from their perspective, victory was a one-way street.The getaway car hadn’t reached her nerve cells yet, nor had the thought of giving up crossed her mind.They wouldn’t get very far as a team if they quit now. They had to continue the search,  at all costs.This battle was nothing compared to the Greco-Italian war that had been going on for days now, giving a taste of Mediterranean temperament to the other members of the European Union. This war would end today, whether Italian sovereignty wanted it or not, having found the source of the trouble and the beginning of the war estrus, which was none other than her presence.Hard to guess, I daresay. Back to the foreign soil that hosted the impending war conflict, the conifers bent over her gaze and met her all-around handwriting spread out on the crumpled papers, steeped in self-doubt and they laughed repeatedly at the fastidiousness of her annotations. Such meticulousness, not even in his wildest dreams.She knew where to strike, even though the way the battle was developing, favoured the Italian enemy.Her ancestors trusted her. She would not betray her brave parentage.A smug breeze interrupted her attention and an Italian hand landed on her shoulder, rousing the wild one inside her. She turned backwards, annoyed at his insolence and a seeming storm formed in her eyes expressing all the disgust she could feel for him. Enemies should not be in the same encampment. Nor look at each other, as if they want to swallow the nectar of their existence and stab their hurt feelings in succession. He leaned down next to her and whispered in her ear, softly, that he would come out victorious between them, electrifying the atmosphere surrounding them and letting her know he wasn’t joking at all.She found herself resenting and wanting to suffocate him slowly and painfully with her bare hands, depriving his wasteful presence of this vain world one, until now, dared to question the power of her mind. How capable she was, as a general of the Greek side. How smart she was. And this unruly Italian horse had just done it. Oh, he would pay dearly for this humiliation, she swore to herself. You don’t provoke masterminds, unless you want to kill yourself.

The sun was setting and the pen was almost out of ink when she raised her head and looked behind her. The procedures were completed. The time of the collision was on her feet and waiting to be rebuilt from the ground up. Most of the war observers had started to enter the room where the battle would take place, clueless about the following ones. The Italian horse, as she mockingly called him, gave her a complimentary look, full of arrogance,  as he stepped his foot inside the door and held it ostentatiously, saying ladies first. – What an idiot, my Lord, trying to play it superior when he’s sure to lose, she thought to herself , dripping irony from her parted lips, forming a crooked smile. She shouldn’t care so much about his insolence, she had a fight to face against him. They weren’t characters from a fantasy book with dragons and knights, nor did they have an incurable passion for each other. All this war needed was strategy. Nothing more, nothing less, she kept reminding herself. Then why do they constantly dream of themselves, under the same roof, nights when the moon dominates the sky, bewitching nights where the caress becomes a mark, an imprint, on naked bodies that are sacrificed on the altar of pride? She pushed that thought from her mind, which had planned everything since the day she crossed the conceivable limits of the universe and sat in her chair quietly. She threatened her tears not to flow, not to humiliate her, in front of her enemy and above all not to betray the empathy she hid deep within her soul. She watched the hostile male figure rise and lift the group onto his shoulders. His speech had good prospects, she had to admit. Her resourceful mind had foreseen this version of the story and was not threatened in the least. The tricks he used to convince the others in the room were outdated, even though they were arguing about his land, the one that gave him life and made him a fierce warrior of northern Italy . She squirmed quite a bit in her chair, anxious about her foray into battle, didn’t want to be ridiculed in front of his eyes, as if she cared enough about his opinion to feel threatened by his pretended cloth that was pinned on her while he was talking. What did she just – Oh no. Oh . That means something. This thing, that keeps looking at her angrily, that keeps trying to be with her constantly. He is not as much of an enemy as she thought. Damn it. As a mastermind, she should have realized this sooner. How do we proceed from here on, in a camp with mines placed everywhere?

She was drenched in cold sweat as soon as she heard her name being mouthed by her allies . Time to show this poor creature who would really win this war , although it was not difficult to guess. She had all the provisions to be declared the winner. No roadblock would ever stand in her way to immortality. She had crossed this path countless times,  so many that it seemed like a game to her now. After all, she didn’t want to win in ordinary ways, had become like an immune food the fact that she always won, whoever the enemy was. Her mind had already formed the initial illusion she wanted to feed on the opponent before the  scuffle even begins . She began to speak, greeted those upon present and pushed a clump of her hair that was falling in front of her eyes. The male figure kept his eyes on her, constantly, making her task even more complicated. She was trying not to look at him, wanted to erase that stupid smile from his face , he wanted to confuse her, that devil with lifelong eyes  . Suddenly, her tongue got stuck, didn’t know what to say, trying to show that she forgot her words, the ones she’d been memorizing all afternoon . She apologized to the audience and sat down, pretending to be disappointed , playing the grieving widow beautifully. She was shaking her leg incessantly, as a sign of inability to betray her human nature , making the time pass even harder. The hardest moment had just arrived and reached upon their feet . Two hands rose stiffly, ready to swallow her existence and the war plan she had proposed. No sentence with a question mark scared her anymore . That’s why she responded bluntly to those who will crucify her at the first moment not letting a single pin drop on the dirty floor. A sneer was stuck on the other side΄s lips , causing a disturbance inside her. Her mind played games with her confidence, thought she saw a glint of pride in his ey – I am going to prison for life , just by touching your flames , said softly to her subcutaneous world .  The opposite side interrupted the coherence of her proposals and began to launch attacks on the plan she had drawn up, stressing that they would not be able to reach even the borders with such visions. She threw the chair to the side and began to refute the nonsense , enemy was spouting, pointing out the flaws in his own plan.How was it possible for them to win in this way? She had been forced to work with newborns , everyone could see it . However, masterminds don’t lose. Never. Time for checkmate .

By the time the meeting was over, the flowers had grown back as thorns and her anxiety had peaked. The verdict of the public has never been good for bloodthirsty criminals who constantly seek the validation of the world. The message was clear from the enemy -he would crush her at every chance he got. She dragged her carcass to the wooden benches outside the conference room, mourning herself. People’s decisions scared her more than torturous death, could lead innocents to the gallows. An ally approached her discreetly and informed her that the decision had been made, punching a hole in the bubble she was trapped in, cradling her face in both of her hands. She felt great relief looking at the smiles of the attendees, entering the hall with her head held high. Her confidence was hardly caged, she thought as she approached the table with the envelope containing the result. If her plan worked, she had to lose the ballot . She didn’t want to expose her hidden narcissism, so she gave her hand to the enemy, clenching her fingertips. The people took their seats and the general coughed loudly so that they could finally start.  Among the rest of the members, his own eyes locked on hers, hearing that he had won this rough-and-tumble clash . She had lost honorably to her most valuable rival , it was something she would hardly accept. Unless she already knew . But these are games of chance, impossible to escape one’s destiny. Not a single beat escaped from the heart that has been carrying for twenty-one years, the girl with the flaming eyes and the invisible bow slung across her back. She remained unfazed, approaching her opponent diplomatically and shaking his hand again, muttering congratulatory words of victory . The war was still raging, but she had just played her strong card , eagerly awaiting his own reaction. She didn’t have to wait long. Half an hour earlier during dinner, the constellations presented her with the most elusive opportunity. She followed him to that secluded warehouse to fetch a chair , clearing her throat only time. The male figure who thought he had won the battle between them stood in front of her and asked her in surprise why she appeared in such a place, at such a time. Her tender words nestled in his heart,  was hard for him to understand that this unruly warrior might even have feelings after all , as she congratulated him once more, telling him she had a present for him, as a sign of reconciliation. He didn’t have time to open his mouth as she pressed her lips to his, savoring her own victory, bringing to the surface the true nature of the Greco-Italian war ,the struggle between these two to express what they felt. And she had done it first, with great success. She had managed to see behind the words and insults they exchanged daily. For her, losing a battle by feigning the truth makes you win the war by straight-corner execution. Masterminds do not need the truth .

 After all, a sloppy kiss can win a war

Ariadne Emmanouilidou

TW: Sexual content

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Do i wanna know by Arctic Monkeys 

It was in the suitcase, folded, among thousands of clothes, which had become a tangle. The things in the suitcase always became a mess, if we look at the way in which the clothes were placed, by the person who had the suitcase in their possession. It was hiding inside the suitcase but managed to stand out from the rest of the luggage. Perhaps its color provoked this, cobalt blue that reminded Greece and the islands that adorn the Mediterranean Sea, cobalt blue used by the ancient Egyptians to make glasses, cobalt blue used by Vermeer for creating “Girl with a Pearl Earring”. The shade of blue that brings electrified caress to whoever touches it, made el vestido look even more wonderful, even more invincible. After all, it had been bought with special intentions, without anyone knowing why it had ended up in the person’s suitcase in the first place. Not that it wasn’t beautiful. It was very beautiful. It reached up to one’s knees and hugged one’s curves perfectly. It was sleeveless and gently caressed the wearer’s shoulders, giving it a glimpse of a hidden haven in fashion. Made by the dainty hands of the fairies that hid in the flower bed under the window of the person to whom el vestido belonged, it harmoniously framed the chest of the person who had it to the extent that the eyes of the rest fell upon the result indiscriminately. The person who would wear it gasped at the sight of it and decided to give it a chance to show off the beauty that was hidden under the sea blue that adorned the fabric. The roommate of the person who would wear it was shocked by the sight of el vestido and suggested that the person not change anything about the stage presence. It had to go down, as it was. The person who would wear it finished with the final touches of the look and put on a pair of pink high shoes. The time had come. The person wearing el vestido slowly descended the stairs, took a deep breath, and entered the living room through the open door. The gazes of the people gathered there fell upon the person and felt her cheeks burn with shame. El vestido managed to distinguish only one glance. That of the shadow.

The shadow, standing in the doorway, let his gaze spread in awe over the body of the person wearing el vestido. The shadow imagined kissing, again and again,  passionately, the point where flesh and cloth met, where the heavenly bodies deviated from course while chasing their tails and moving in orbits of pleasure. The one wearing el vestido bit the soft red lips that accompanied the magic, floating in the ether of the hall, and pushed back the naiveties hiding the forehead.  Felt uncomfortable, hearing the sound of blood in her veins flowing erratically and took a seat next to the group that was ready to start the presentation. The shadow felt the disputed spot between the legs ignite and pulsate rhythmically synchronized with the hips of the person wearing el vestido, in a failed attempt to conceal the commotion that had been created in the vessels of the aorta which was now about to burst from the passion of the moment. El vestido caught red-handed the shadow, have already been marbled by the drool that flowed from the wearer’s parted lips, as the person explained the cultural heritage of the country that had organized the particular evening. It was all set up for the scene to come this way, el vestido observed. Looked at its owner, as if to whisper words of comfort into her ears that had been engulfed in flames by the tension in the low-ceilinged room. The shadow hung from the lips of the person wearing el vestido, like the hanging gardens of Babylon feeling an inexhaustible sexual desire permeate every cell of the brain system, and notwithstanding anymore, tried not to think about el vestido and the person wearing it. Trying to think of other things. Calmer. More frozen. The shadow was thinking how things would progress if he pushed the person wearing el vestido against the wall that separated the corridor from the courtyard and asked some entirely innocent questions about the origin, the person so proudly declared during the presentation. Only the answers –  would be implicit. A nod of satisfaction was enough. So enough for him. Or maybe resort to more drastic solutions, that no one would ever need to find out. The shadow wanted to remove el vestido from the person by any means possible, at all costs.

Like the lightning of god Zeus and the will of a man, the opportunity appeared before the shadow’s eyes and it could not ignore it. Couldn’t give up on her like the others that appeared all these days. It’s now or never, the shadow reminded itself and opened the door to the room with the number 15 faintly written on it. The shadow saw the person wearing el vestido prowling the third-floor hallway. She wanted to sneak it out before the shadow saw her. However, did the person know that the shadow had already heard the footsteps creaking on the wooden floor . And was about to start a new era. The shadow took a few silent leaps to reach the unreachable step of the person wearing el vestido, while it saw a strong hand gently grasping the fabric of which had been materialized. El vestido managed to distinguish the blurred,  by the sense of touch, golden irises wishing to beam up into some galaxy tonight or be silent forever as the shadow inhaled the wearer΄s scent and could barely stop itself from admiring the magnificent bosom. El vestido should have accepted the fate the stars had planned for it. It was made to go out, while it was barely worn. Back at ours, the wearer was shocked to see the wrist immovable and a pair of large eyes,  full of shots of the Sicilian coast, staring into her as if they wanted to swallow her existence. El vestido saw its wearer whisk away the hands as if they had been drenched in blood and automatically took a step back, smiling defiantly. Everyone knew where this challenge would lead painted on that person’s lips. The shadow unprovoked took a step forward. El vestido saw his master take a step back, letting one leg dangle before stepping firmly onto the rung. The shadow took another step forward. The person wearing el vestido took another step back and felt her back against the damp cold wall. The shadow let out a loud laugh and stood in front of the stairs leading down, blocking the person’s path. El vestido was caught like a mouse in a rattrap, realizing there was no way out . The person wearing it tried to take a step back. No success. The shadow licked her lips and took two steps forward. Could smell impending death if she would lavish her kisses. If only she did that.

The shadow that previously came dangerously close and cornered el vestido on the little naughty steps of the far-flung inn, was now unfolding its hidden graces, making el vestido slide gently off the wearer’s shoulders, marking the area with a passionate kiss on the collarbone of the person who had just parted with el vestido. It fell discreetly to the floor and revealed the beauty of the person’s nudity looking at it with a shy smile. With an actually questioning smile about whether anything like this had ever happened before. The shadow gently pushed it into the corner of the closet which it later thought of clumsily brushing against the wearer’s back and clasped strong warm hands around the exposed waist which, as el vestido could tell, was tormented by desires that would lead her to burn indefinitely in hell, in the company of sinners who thought to dream of a night like this, bestowed with nature’s blessings. The shadow began to reverently lead the person who had bought el vestido to the headboard of the bed, turning off the lights so that the person would become a shadow like it and casually tossing the sheets that preheated the den that was going to host in the wild dawn,  the most hedonistic words ever heard from the language that Romeo used to describe as if she were an ancient goddess, his lover. Maybe they haven’t been written yet. Maybe not. Back in the night that gave birth to an unrestrained passion, the head of the person wearing el vestido gently rested on the pillow, while the shadow, with discrete movements, began to trace paths with his fingertips on the body that protruded without a trace of cloth to cover it, paths that no mortal would ever dare to cross. El vestido prayed to the gods that this moment would never pass as the shadow stilled its hand, looking deep into the naked person’s soul, and bent down slowly and excruciatingly to bite the earlobe that had been burning with every word the shadow uttered. Listened to the howling of the wind, which was desperately asking for the window to be opened and for him to taste the orgasm they had lost in the bed sheets. El vestido closed its eyes and felt an incomprehensible heat smoldering the fabric of which it was made. It felt like a human for a while.

El Vestido looked at them, the shadows that protruded on the edge of the bed, and admired the ethereal movement of their hands, as they successively touched with so much care,  each other’s fiery flesh, in a slow sensual rhythm, with the ultimate goal of ascending to heavenward. It let his gaze spread and capture the scene which was developing rapidly in front of el vestido, thrown to the floor, as it was, exploring the echo that carried the sharp breaths of the two shadows. It had just found what human happiness finally stood for. The puzzle pieces came together and gave the answer which had been sought throughout its soulless life. Two resplendent bodies, united mentally and physically, not being able to find the primitive start, where the first begins and where the other ends, not knowing whether the beginning of love-consciousness was the one that gave birth to the universe or completely destroyed it. El vestido was dizzy, given the intensity of the erotic moment, and began memorizing all that could be understandable, since it had no human hypostasis. It was trying to memorize the unbridled movement of the shadow, shifting back and forth, increasing the pace, with each impingement with the wearer’s naked body. It saw its master floundering, like a fish out of water, dominating the heavens and cursing the Devine, as the nebula of human existence parted and passed into something more ethereal, something more like a vicious cycle of nature. Εl vestido saw the shadow emerge from the rush of sexual climax as it moved back and forth and the clamor spread throughout the small hut, leaving behind traces of magical dust that clung to the walls and absorbed the love that all the ancient poets extolled. What ancient tragedy can embrace these two creatures and tame them, thought el vestido. This dangerous thought was interrupted by the shadow that threw his head back and placed his lips gently on the forehead of the person who until now wore el vestido. The wind had stopped howling and the night spread its black veils over the two creatures and covered what should not be seen, unable to help but admire the work of art unfolding before the eyes, as the hands of the clock struck midnight. El vestido smiled widely. The purpose of its existence had just been achieved.

Ariadne Emmanouilidou

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So it goes by Taylor Swift

L’amore è come il vento, non lo puoi vedere, ma lo puoi sentire

-Italian quote

He looked at her, letting his gaze wander into her large eyes, a source of oasis. He looked at her, persistently, greedily, tenderly, letting the cascades of his eyes flow down her legs and find themselves at the mercy of the darkness that gently enveloped her .The scant light, emitted by the constellation of the Dioscuri, showed on the surface their most hidden dreams, their most hidden desires and made her gold-embroidered skin shine perpetually. He had never encountered such an ethereal creature before. The blinding glint of her face crossed the ridge of his head and perched on the peaceful feel of his hands, feeling his blood simmer in Venetian rhythms.His hand slipped out of place and gently touched her waist, bringing her a breath away from his dangerous lips, without moving an inch more. He wouldn’t do it. Not today . Not now. In her own spacetime, where the muscles of her mind would surrender their spirit to the warmth of his soul, burning desire that pierced the foliage of his thoughts constantly. Far from the lights of the city, their footsteps met in that little clearing, deep in the forest, in the land where Transylvanian blood flowed.Trembling breaths came from her parted lips as she felt his hand touch her fiery flesh , bearing in mind an irregular path of kisses and a chemical reaction of fire and oxygen floated in the rose petals that adorned her dress. Don’t say she took too long to figure it out, he repeated to himself. The faded wounds of her soul prevented her from seeing clearly the rekindling of his feelings and thwarted the ongoing behests that sprouted in the corridors of his brain as soon as he kept track of her image that July morning.So that was it. What could even try to separate them? Only a slow sensual dance with the shadows of the coniferous trees witnessing their carnal wistfulnesses.

Look at his eyes,  if you dare, tell me how to describe them, a flare, maybe a flame. They are fireworks that light up Rome all at once and captivate the passers-by who admire the bright full moon, an impregnable castle, a bullring, for its eyes sacrifices would have been made and much blood would have been shed, for this beautiful, unique glow. This strange, otherworldly glow of theirs, could tear down the Colosseum and build it straight away, could crucify Jesus and resurrect him again, scatter the remnants of love on the five continents and unite them into one. His eyes are reminiscent of Alighieri’s hell ,artwork inspired by the Renaissance era, hanging in the Louvre, a masterpiece given by Botticelli, his eyes, a tornado that sweeps everything in their path. For his eyes you would become a god of Olympus, in their sacred bonds they guard you and look at you in awe, healing the scratches of the past, setting fire to the inhibitions of the future. If you manage to raise your stature against them, you will be faced with the stormy sea that surrounds their inner world, huge waves of delegation will envelop you and transform you into a pirate ship, full of golden ornaments and and if fate decrees it , captive of his yearnings you will become. Enough of that, look at his lips and tell me how to immortalize them in the written world , how to bring them to life through lifeless words. Τhey are hair-twirling wind speeds , as if I manage to ride the white horse of optimism and spill out into the streets that lead to Via Montenapoleone . Nectar of the gods and gumption of the demigods, oh,  his lips are shaped like happiness and set fire to the entrails successively ,  made into the drug that immobilizes the body and skyrockets serotonin levels. What would you do if you kissed his bloody lips in a character collision ? Pilgrimage refuge in Vatican City , propitiation at the altar of the Pantheon, you become a kneeling supplicant on the steps that enter Milan Cathedral, in the tears of the Virgin Mary you seek your atonement ,  not amenable to any punishment.

Ten volumes of books, gilded with the pen of an unknown author, are not enough to glorify his divine hands and the heat they disperse to random directions in the solar system. Overlaid with the most beautiful knits of human tissue that nature has ever created, his hands are able to construct temples and pyramids from the substructures, brought a knife to a gun fight and killed anyone who threatened the sun that loomed up behind the Alps. In his long-suffering hands, the fatal sunset dissolves, at the thought of him turning the withered grass into fresh-smelling flowers and raising new camellias from the ground, bringing spring wherever he is, whatever he does, whatsoever he may be. But how life brings you like this, a pair of hands like his,  leads you where no other hand has ever taken you,  on a road where hell meets heaven and gently strokes its angel wings. They conjure up tricks in the second and make magic potions of love, making himself the greatest wizard of all time, in the name of the darkness that grounds his existence , not withstanding the idea of ​​seclusion nor habit and enumerating one by one his gifts. His fingertips , beating to the rhythm of Τarantella, take hold of the brush and form rainbows on the canvas in front of him, their colors mingling in his curly short hair and his bright smile flows abundantly in them. Ah, his smile. A dose of happiness for a few . A self-luminous shooting star that acts as a source of energy for those around him, a planet that little children seek to find with their innocent eyes, hanging above the stars that connecting them, etching lines straight and parallel, intersecting and curved , you get the the faithful acolyte of the goddess Artemis , who obeying at her command ,killed Orion with an arrow when the latter tried to hurt her.Don’t tell me you don’t recognize the Scorpio myth?Don’t tell me you still haven’t figured out ,with all these literary metaphors above, how handsome he is?

He leaned over her and savored the scent, breathing slowly down her neck and letting out unintelligible phrases in an unknown language.His words broke the silence of the space and bewitched her body, locking it in a golden cell whose key has been lost and only he,  has the power ,using his commands as the weapon , to save her from the impending suffocating death and deliver her from the demons that haunt her in her prophetic dreams.She couldn’t concentrate on what he was telling her. She gazed momentarily at the galaxy lighting up his hands as they left her waist exposed to the icy breeze and moved to her lips.Guided by his fingers, he wandered to the line that formed them and began to strip her with his eyes, reverently, as if it were her body, an ancient witchcraft ritual , that in order to participate, he would have to kneel before her and manifest what he keeps a seven-sealed secret, in his lustful mouth.Abruptly she pulled herself away from the warmth of his body and bowed her head, looking coyly at her pink summer shoes, which brought her close to his height without much difficulty.The strange creature with the big brown eyes let her first words come out of her mouth,  trying to compose her thoughts properly, facing bluntly the turmoil ,  hovered in the atmosphere. – “They looked at us. They were here. A pair of eyes. And another one. That’s where they headed. They know about us. They saw us clearly. What will we do now that they know about us? We shouldn’t have left the same road together, we shouldn’t, we couldn’t, we didn’t need to, we better not – Oh, why are you laughing, you idiot!” In the midst of her thoughts, she looked at the smirk on his lips and automatically a similar one formed on hers.There . Under his beard. As soon as he laughs. Dimples. He has dimples. – “Love, sorry to spoil your monologue “, said looking at her eyes while they avoided him as usual . -“But you don’t have to pull away from me and resist my touch. If you don’t feel comfortable, you can always tell me. I’m here to make you feel comfortable. Do you understand that?” She dared to raise her pupils to his side, letting them escape and find the support she sought. – “But they saw . They smiled . They know .” He grabbed her face with his strong hands and brought it close to him.

– “Let them be , mia cara. Let them be. I don΄t care.“

Out of the blue , he took a bright device out of his pocket and browsed somewhere, not giving an explanation to her. Bewildered by his momentary reaction, she remained silent, looking at the celestial dome held by Atlas. What a beautiful night this too, how many stars, and the moon disappeared, having given its place to her , as it should. Suddenly, she heard notes surrounding her ears and a low hiss from his lips. The creature with the big brown eyes felt her cheeks explode, staining them burgundy and gyrated her hips sluggishly to the rhythm of the familiar song.The one that the birds chirp as soon as they see him,  placed the device back in his pocket and extended his hand towards her. He couldn’t have been more serious. Ed Sheeran could be heard in the background singing the opening notes as the surrounding trees and freely galloping horses watched the two figures embrace each other , dancing slowly, under the starlight. Once, twice she tried to talk to him, to tell him that they would be seen and to stop their aerial waltz, but to no avail. He was adamant, and as always seemed headstrong. Hush, he managed to articulate, carried away by the passion that lingered in the night. Don’t think, leave it in my hands and let me travel you to unknown lands, far away .Listen to the music and let your body sway to the tempo, just hear my voice softly singing and tearing through the silence that prevails in a place like this, far from the city lights and airport΄s bustle. These were his words, traveled to her eardrums and made her shudder straight away, creating a climate of imperceptible peace. He hugged her tighter, bringing her head to his shoulder, giving a sweet gentle kiss in her hair, sending shivers down her body. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to leave your side, he reassured her. The song is over. So suddenly. But the magic is not lost. It is there, in the land where castles sprout like seeds in the ground and enchant visitors with the legends hidden within their walls. In the country where two strangers, two creatures of the Mediterranean sea, were destined to cross their fates and to overcome what hinders them. Τo discover what unites them. Perhaps a single drop of southern European blood.

Ariadne Emmanouilidou