Lashes for Days
I lust for men with middle-eastern features. A hooked nose, dark hair, dark piercing eyes, a sharp jawline, a deep voice with which he speaks broken accented English — maybe he speaks Arabic, maybe he speaks Urdu or maybe he speaks Farsi — who knows? His hair is either too short, like a close buzz or too long; like flowy beach waves reaching down to his waist. His brows are kohl black and he has lashes for days.
He looks up and catches my gaze in that restaurant I was sitting solo at sipping on my mint tea. He walks over and asks, "Can I buy you lunch in exchange for helping me read this menu, my English is broken?" I say, "Only if you tell me a story about where you are from."
That lunch turns to drinks that turn to dinner and then post-dinner drinks. It feels like we've known each other for a long time — like college friends meeting after years. We walk back to my hotel room and there are no two says that I want him to come inside, play with my hair and take me on the marble counter top. He moans words I do not understand but they send shivers down my spine. He finishes with a deep exclamation and when I ask him what he said, he turns to me, with his breathing still heavy and says, "It means 'You Killer!' in Farsi".
I’m an italian illustrator, based in the south of Italy. I always draw, since I was a child. Markers were my favorite toys. I love to draw everything and everywhere using everything that can make a sign on paper. I always have a sketchbook in my bag.