Amber & Honey

Quiet she sits in the corner and smiles her smile of wisdom. Her honey-coloured hair surrounds her light face and her right arm moves in the pace of the words she jots down on her perfectly organised notebook. The thick scars on her arm and hands are proof of her untold stories. Her eyes look like two precious stones of Amber that sparkle golden in the sunlight that shines through the palm tree standing in front of the window, like a silent witness. 

Once in a while the Amber-Lady tells you something, just one little story of her short life that has been so full of unexpected events. She looks deep inside her memories and tells you about her conflicted childhood, her dictatorial dad and all the things she has started and never finished. She talks about her search for love and peace, her fight to find her place in the world. Her run after destiny, the sacrifice for her love. The troubled years far away in a country that has burning deserts and ice cold winters, where she lives with her husband and children. No regular job, no big house, no expensive car, but the certainty that they are happy and fine. 

She tells you tragic things as if she was talking about the weather. There is this powerful serenity in each of her well-chosen words. You listen to her gentle voice, her calm way of speaking, picturing everything she’s telling you. It feels like ten minutes of her life could fill a whole book. Like honey she is sweet and comforting. Her presence makes the room find a balance as if she could hold everything together. Like honey is a magnet to the bees, she becomes the magnet for everyone around her.  
The Amber- Lady. 
I was lucky to meet her.