Ahhhh Carnival! A spectacular time in this beautiful twin island paradise. A time of color, unity and revelry. Ones heart automatically syncs and pumps to the pulsating rhythms of the inticing soca music. And with that sync, every beautiful womans' waist line begins to roll. Moving to every beat, twisting, dropping and rolling, in seductive, enticing and incredible motions Ahh yes! Carnival is woman and women love to wine! Needless to say as these Caribbean beauties carry on with their display of feminine prowress in dance form. A language develops. As the music blasts, words are lost and the body begins the speak. Articulate. Clear. Precise. This talk, a sweet, sexy accent that only Carnival women can wield with precision Would have men only too keen to engage in conversation. These best speeches are from the Carnival princesses Decked in thier tiniest costumes. Beads and feathers. Eye cathcing colors and smiles only too welcoming. Mind you thier langauge, that waist line talk matches their melanin beauty, is one of the most difficult to answer. Most men not versed enough to match. Few are competent im such talk. Those few are christened, "Winer Boys." Said to have been born in snake oil, these males are said to not only match, but in some rear occasions, even out do their female counter parts, in rapid, furious coverstaion or slow, precise talk. As the sun beats down hot rays on the revellers...that sweet soca music begins to play, the rhythm taking over town. A conversation begins... A princess in her royalty, draped in pink and sliver, skin so sweet, melamin of ebony gold, body of Amazonian legend, begins her talk. The the soca beat dictates her pace....her speech begins...Articulate. Precise. No stuttering..every word a perfect pronunciation. Her syntax, correct. A solo speech no doubt, but one that can still invite challenge. Lining up, the men hear her tone, eager to converse with her..none articulate enough to hold her attention long enough, failing to bring that stimulating conversation she requires. Too many fail. Then as the blaring heat rises...he enters. He whispers from the back, caught her from behind. She pauses. Intrigued, she responsds with a one liner to test if this one is jus as the others. He listens to that line, not just to respond but to understand...and understand he does His replies, perfectly syncing with her. Telling her exactly what she was longing to hear. And the conversation goes on. Stimulating. Engaging. Never missing a beat or awakard pausing. It flows. They flow. Sweat leaks thier bodies, no matter. The talk goes on. Hard and fast at times. Then Slow and grinding...Fun. Seductive. Sexy. The sun begins to sink...the day of talking comming to an end. The conversation wines down to a simple, yet intense goodbye. They part ways maybe to never to see each other again. But that conversation. That body talk. Will remain with them till next season. When that art of expression, that langauge will be wield again. The End
