♥ soulscape ♥
x.
Red lips, contoured to near perfection and irredeemably kissable. It’s a warm, sensual sunset that kisses the late Summer goodbye with darkening shades of crimson and purple. Veneziano keeps a cherished image behind his closed eyelids, of peachy flesh on a supple figure, almost nude and languidly draped onto a lavishly baroque chaise lounge, a Venus in furs. Pearls across her collarbones, and exquisite lace around her thighs. Her cheeks are dusted with the bold pink shade of the vespertine clouds. The room is a cornucopia of luxuries, of different shades of red velvet; but it is the breath-taking view from the large French windows overlooking the shoreline that urges him onto further discovery. He sees her, and he is a shipwrecked sailor again. It’s always her, the sea. Their mistress, benefactor, captor; Veneziano begins his work of art, painting the sleeping sun as it dips into the generous Ligurian waters, staining them with its pretty coral hues. Beyond the orderly rows of magnificent luxury resorts, shamelessly manifest testament to the most obscene wealth, a broad monolith overlooks it, an evergreen emerald host to the most verdant vegetation, majestic and watchful like a solid fortress. That is the hardened heart of her, the very core of that sparkly and bejewelled land which went from rags to riches with fiercely leonine determination.