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THE GEISHA

Hidden true is far more revealing….
Margot.

The last lesson of the morning, I can barely open my eyes. This is when; I thank god for giving me oriental features, easy to hide…
The sunlight keeps filtering through the window of the classroom. Softly caressing my skin, with crystal healing fingers.
My flesh feel raw from the night before, soon I will again, blocked each pores of my being with an immaculate screen.

There is never any snow in Kyoto; maybe we are, white particles floating around the streets, bringing a smile to children’s faces…
Maybe I should listen more my teacher and let the art of tea, flowing through me.
How many cups must have I pour? Same gestures, same expression.

Mother is so proud of me. I mean the one from my Okiya, I am a good investment, she said.
I was eager to learn.
The first time I wore my make up on, for a long while, I felt to be a part of something so big!
A microscopic dust spot, peacefully floating into the dark universe…
My all body was in complete agony. My kimono was so tight, I could barely move, or breathe.
But that magic second, when my figure stared back at me, all the years of torture, I had endured, vanish!

I look with wonder, my face disappearing behind milky moon, my eyes becoming black stars and my lips turning into a blooded void: where pleasure and sweetness would spill from it!

Classroom time is over, pretty doll walking throughout the door. Time has come to leave reality and created my friend…
Same ritual, same pleasure, I can never stop looking at her.
My parents would have been so proud.
Maybe behind the rainy clouds, they are both observing me with wet proud. I like to believe this, when the sky is grey…

I always walk faster when I am in civil clothes. Like a moss trying to escape the daylight!
Mother is at the door, she give a quick glance toward the clock, always on time. She walks away quietly after acknowledge her presence to me.

My lunch is waiting for me; my kimono lay, lifeless on the wooden bed.
I seat in a very straight posture, discipline and swallow in silence, the essence of my life.
Listening to the melody of my heart beating and intoxicated by the perfume of cut flowers on my make up table.
This is the only time of the day, my work of art spent together. Siamese waiting to be split again!

I like to thank the little girl; the little peasant had a dream and was strong enough to achieve her goal.
I hold a velvet petal and let it flirt with my skin, my breast, and my hips…

Teahouses requests are starting to come in, I can hear the muffle sound of the phone downstairs.
I suffer from a light dizziness, too much firewater last night, and little time to recover…
I just hope not too much dancing tonight but more tainted words, expecting from me.

My face is like a sunny spring afternoon, where is never raining. I can not remember the last time, I saw a tear rolling on my cheek but I always carry inside my wombs, water falls!
So loud inside, so quiet outside! Two worlds apart, two visions separate by flesh and silky clothes.
My hidden kingdom shine to the outside world, I never look into my shadow, by fear to be swallowing by it!

I must light the candle; the room get fill with dusky shade. Mother says, this are the ghost of dead geishas, checking on me…
Each flipping spectres, bringing a story to tell for the evening ahead.
My friend says, this is superstition, old tradition. How would she know? She is not a good storyteller!

So I lied down, letting the obscures shadows filtering through me whispering sugar secrets…
Suddenly my body felt so cold, I could have stay froze but mother walk in the room looking surprise, my expression, I must compose myself!
She gave me the little list, scrawl with the same nervous handwriting. Two places, not too busy.
I must concentrate. I walk down the stair with elegance.
I am a geisha, a human piece of art, and a self-sacrifice object!

Kyoto at night, big firework, flickering sparkles, colours reflecting inside my black pupils!
Little star inside my passive mind, the wind caress my face, remember the touch of my mother, the sweet kiss goodbye….
So much water falls since! I must have drowned myself long ago…

A late ladybird halt on my kimono, red ruby crawling along my neck, blood tear…
So beautiful, so ephemera…how long can I carry on, what I choose to be? Or avoid being…
Questions are like bad weather, no need to worry, tomorrow, the sun will come again.

Mother looked worry; I lost weight, no good for business! More rice, more diamonds!
After all, I am the most popular geisha from Kyoto or I like to believe…
Many men pay much money to have a look at me. Never one man has the strength to stare into my grey eyes long enough. Grey eyes, how shocking! I am oriental; my eyes should be dark.
The other geisha say, I am a witch!
It makes me laugh, me flying away on a broom, with my silky kimono!

Passers by, give me little bows, I am love…
I am so pretty and I don’t care if mother think I am too shinny!
I must be able to walk on snow without living footprints!
Light as air, happy as space…

Funny, how anyone accommodate himself or herself, to his own situation.
My kingdom is made of glass. Fragile, visible, vulnerable and strong…
I like this adjectives, I think there are well chosen about me…

But time to become her as come as I push the door. Whispers of voices…
Good evening Michoco. That is my name, my geisha name, I am a hand made piece of art. I do not know better, I am so discipline.
Four Japanese’s, one American, one French, cosmopolitan tonight.
I must be very good. Never move my lips, when not talking.
My face must be dead canvas. A beautiful painting but a dead one!
The men must see their fantasies reflecting in it!

Foreigners love watching me dancing. I must do the moon waking in up from a lasting sleep, hehehe…
I know they love this one, they always think, I fall in love with them. No need to explain…

I choose to be a geisha, I am a piece of art, I am beauty, real beauty never fades. Did you know this?
Next time, you buy a rose, keep it.
When the petal dried and the spring rainfall into it, only than will you see, diamonds of nature…
Only time kill!
Only time makes you understand.

I seat with small smile; return to anonymity. My eyes focus on the table. Tea, checking each cups, one empty.
I move my arm, like octopus.
Slimy with lust but so honourable!
I can feel their stares on my neck. Geisha’s neck are very special, they show what most men will never see! My friend the ladybird had sees more…
I can see their nostrils flickering like wild mustangs, searching for freedom lands!
Don’t you know there is always the hunter waiting to catch you?
I am a pretty picture, something you flick through a magazine.
Come to my museum, visit me…who would be lucky enough to know my inner thoughts?
Not me, unfortunately! The horrid true come out! I must forget…

Dancing again?
What? I have fours seconds to decide! Never looking hesitating…
Dance of the swan lost into his own reflection. Doesn’t matter, they will never know…will you?
Sometime it is best to swim into the surface and ignore the depth…
So here you are, you can swim over my words and not let them swallow you…
I am a geisha; I am nice like this.

The American men grab my arm, I move so slightly that is drunken mind must have not notice. Magic, I disappear…
Do not touch what you can not afford!

Time flicker with the candle light, every second is so close to me…
I am lost into space.
No rice thank you, I mustn’t eat with my client, real geisha live from being…still and beautiful.
Drink water fire, I must obey, my body shiver with revulsion!
As a young apprentice, I used to love it, dizzy like the clouds…
Today, painful, like volcanoes tongues!
Each lick, talking myself away…
My friends are drunk, misery walking into the long road…
Must be obliged, lots of money for mother.

Where would I escape? Into my canary cage…
My only friend, my bird.

Each past morning, singing into my sleepy ears, filling my dreams with soft melodies. Mother present, when I became a trained geisha. She told me as I look with delight to the bird.
If you last longer than he does, you will be a good geisha…
The candle is fading, must change for a new light. Shadows dancing on paper walls…

More singing, the song of the willow tree talking to the wind, each leaves give his secrets away, to be carry into forever sunset…
My voice must be clear, high and smoothing…
My throat burn but my lips smile with blooded stiffness! I am so discipline; I am a geisha…

Midnight come, tic-tac…bells ringing, more metallic voice piercing throughout the night. Kyoto I love you.
Must move soon, my guest seem to have enough, intoxicated to the eyeballs! Red eyes, bad aura…
The foreigners leave first. Japanese and me left. More stories more gossips.
I listen with great appreciation, I love feeding my soul with new senses, new ideas…
I have filled so many little draws, in the attic of my memory, with ghostly souvenirs…

I can so easily, imagine and travel behind reality. My physical being of course has not left Kyoto, since I was a child.
But I know so many beautiful places, I must say and tamely admit, sometimes I wonder about the true…

My services are no longer required. My hands meet their cold fingers. I grab my umbrella, small colour fishes painted on it. The moonlight piercing throughout their tiny eyes, I am shower by silver rain…
The night is fresh; I can taste the coolness on my neck. Passers by, give me sweet smile, some laugh; laughing waterfalls on my broken spirit!
I can not remember the last time I let in someone, I am purely aesthetic!
Glass perfect, no impurity inside me…

I will walk along the river on my way home. I am finally going back where I have been dreaming for so long.
No postcards, no photos. The past must be burn like wasted paper…and ashes blew by the coming breeze.

I have stop looking back into my shadow, bad aura! So instead, I look at the reflection of the stars, on moving black water.
Clic-clic-clic, tiny pearls of sound, the lullaby of the river. I recognised your call my lovely.
I am so light, I believe I can walk on water…behind the wish come true.
Even the swam, one day, must find out the depth of the mirror where they have been swimming…

As I walk into the body of the element, my hands fetch the cold, rigid body of my canary, inside my kimono.

My painted eyes give a look to his tiny past being and for a second, I really believe, I felt the burning sensation in the corner of my eyes.
But the tears never felt, instead, I felt my kimono moulding around me…as the river took me….
Mother was right.

HERVE NAUDET DIT MARGOT