THE FLAMBOYANT YEARS OF ONE FAILED STAR.

LES FLAMBOYANTES ANNÉES D'UNE STAR RATÉE, by Pascal H.
*SHORT EXTRACTS* OF THE 2012 FINAL VERSION RIGHT HERE!

ABSOLUTELY AMAZING!
Over 1,000,000 worldwide web readers already did! Hymne à Berlin, Hymne à la Sodomie, L'Épicier, Battery Park...Ratonnades à pédés!
A MUST READ! GLAMOROUS!! SEXUAL!!! DECADENT!!! And more!
Definitely NOT! Politically correct
!!! POWERFUL & SO REAL!
WorldCopyrights@SACD 2011/ # 245252, 75009 Paris, France.



Thursday, June 16, 2011

Kinan. E->


Traduction française bientôt en ligne.


Quelques Extraits...


''I was arriving with a friend of his, Haitham, proud to spend the night out on the first day of the year with the so handsome king of the city, my own invincible eagle for whom I had put my best gears on. Flashing my savor faire around and showing my made up face in town, I was on all teeth out on the go with my hair perfectly set in the wind wearing a black Vuitton blazer and shoes with a long evening white shirt waving over the stoned wash blue jeans that gave the right tune of a perfect snobby and sophisticated blazing Dolce Vita life style to the outfit, walking away next to him sure of myself laughing loud a glass of cognac in my hand and a cigarette holder in the other, determined to show myself around and let it know, until I arrived to the lounge of his cousin's bar and sat in front of an other Druze fabulous creature who just appeared coming out from the one thousand and one nights. His square jaws and his lips that could only invite the entire world to sensual pleasures suddenly made me stop my showing off seduction game, and his beautiful hair shining black, and his impressive noise that inevitably made me think of the rest of his physique that was more subtly hidden under a white Winter jumper and black jeans made me shut my big mouth for a few seconds. I just had a shock. The large rectilinear dimples of his cheeks were giving him a strong virile and harsh manly look of a Hollywood star playing the bad guy ready to shoot one next thriller scene that the light of love and intelligence in his eyes softened. On his wheel chair carrying his atrophied legs he was sitting there with elegant gesture and Persian eyes that were as sharp as his friend the eagle, Kinan knew everything. Everything from me, everything from the world, everything from the people. Deep inside and kept inside, the sorrows and the joys. For he had been living them all along way before his accident and I knew it. This man was a pure block of sensitivity and Love. I felt it palpable in the air hitting my skin at once and his intelligence could tangibly pierce any wall on the spot. This man had extra senses. Tremendous assets. He could understand everything, he could perceive everything. He could discern every single light from every single step, from every single move, from every single word with an extreme intelligence and sensitivity the rest of the gathering around us simply could not see, feel, or guess. He could get in people's souls. He had suffered far too much from his immense love to give, suffered far too much from giving everything he'd got, suffered far too much from not receiving the keys of his own paradise. I knew it . I knew it because I had been there too, the deepest downs and the highest ups had been our world in common. I loved him at first glance for I already knew him just as much as he knew me. Every look, every phrase, every comma of his moves were intensified with gleams in his eyes that penetrated all of the soul. Everybody's soul. No one in front of him could get away from his inner being, These gleams in his eyes were holding all of his powers to immediately reach the truth in our beings with love and deep respect with no compromise. Everything in him was so naturally real. Real, big and grand. Indeed, the guy was grand. Discreet, observing from a distance though quite social getting in circles, he was keeping in his deepest insides his wounds and strength no one seemed to feel as if he knew he was from the start a misunderstood man. I had no pity on him and his wheel chair from which he could not get rid of. Pity was a detestable and despicable cheap feeling that avoided to know the other with limpid and clear eyes letting only appear the chiaroscuro of the fogs. We were even. My own mental and social handicaps as a queer I had carried for years led me into the bright light where I could not see his visible ones to only perceive the inner him deep and strong knowing what Kinan had much more to offer inside despite all physical appearances I had also suffered from and I wanted the world to know his the way I had wanted it to know mine. I knew I had succeeded that. He had to let his exceptional power raise and let it go in order to show it and reach an inner freedom he did not expect possible. I knew what suffering from a too heavy sensitivity meant and I knew that peculiar sensitivity was not a result of his wheel chair. He had it all along since birth. Indeed we were even, sensitivity to sensitivity, intelligence to intelligence, face to face away from any deformity other eyes might have only see, and nothing else. I would have loved to hold him in my arms on the spot, to kiss him and scream loud I had reached him here where no one had before. I knew he knew it. I did not dare even to touch him as I did not want my sexual orientations to be put in the highlight as it had nothing to do with the love I could see him through anyway. Kinan knew it too as he knew and could feel everything, forced by his past and present family and social close surrounding to remain circumspect and skillful about it all. I had been there too. Such knowledge of Mankind he was dragging along like a burden, its greatness and its meanness, the giving of yourself and the impassable walls that bring you back to the start flat on your face could not be understood by the ordinary and let him remain a man alone. He had to scream who he was and I wanted him to. Performing arts were the only road in which he could with such an unique face and inner power let his emotions and the way he saw the world go. He had to do it. I just had met a real pure star whose star quality was taking over his natural Arabian beauty. Kinan was under the full light and shined. He was a sun of which his elegant gesture and spirit made the glow in him even more dazzling that left no room for some shimmer. He was a man to remember. A man whose greatness of his humaneness could only be seen through the eyes of the beholder.''




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