Photographies et dessins © Sonia Marques
The Wild One
Kiwaïda Blue had always loved deserted Galicia with its resonant, raw rivers. It was a place where she felt sexy.
She was a hungry, virtuous, hibiscus tea drinker with slimy hair
and fluffy toes.
Her friends saw her as a precious, poised painter.
Once, she had even helped a rare bird recover from a flying accident.
That's the sort of woman she was.
Kiwaïda walked over to the window and reflected on her sunny surroundings.
The wind blew like loving dragon.
Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone.
It was the figure of The Jazzist Purple.
The Jazzist was a courageous parrot with red hair and ginger toes.
Kiwaïda gulped. She was not prepared for The Jazzist.
As Kiwaïda stepped outside and The Jazzist came closer, she could see the exuberant glint in his eye.
The Jazzist gazed with the affection of 7 hopeful harsh horse. He said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want a hug."
Kiwaïda looked back, even more puzzled and still fingering the giant book. "The Jazzist, I love you," she replied.
They looked at each other with relaxed feelings, like two moaning,
monkeys jumping at a very brave party, which had jazz music
playing in the background and two whales uncles swimming to the beat.
Kiwaïda regarded The Jazzist's red hair and ginger toes. "I feel the same way!" revealed Kiwaïda with a delighted grin.
The Jazzist looked shocked, his emotions blushing like a high, healthy montain.
Then The Jazzist came inside for a nice drink of hibiscus tea.
The End
