Monthly Archives August 2010

Aug 07, 2010 | Post by: Devon Knight No Comments

Implode (Morning Drizzle)

She stood beneath a venerable awning, along the august promenade of Central Park West. The air was autumn, though her ensemble was vibrant and invariably spring. Her accoutrements were ivory and amber hues of Chanel, the ruffles on her blouse tickled by the slight wind. The air was brisk, its temperature betrayed by the visible breath on her ruby lips. She was still, her posture stoic, like the valued statues of antiquity she pursued the world over.

Neil Horowitz was escorted from the yellow coach by the ardent doorman, who braved the somberness of a melancholy sky to assist with the Louis Vuitton portage. A slight drizzle began to fall and now Renaldo unsheathed the licorice umbrella, to shield Mr. Horowitz from the rain.

He approached his wife, esteemed luggage in tow.

“Welcome home, dear.” She would allow between raindrops.

Neil mumbled, incoherently. He appeared irritable, unable to abandon the discomfort of his recent journey. As he unzipped a particular tote and began to rummage through its articles, Lucy brandished a familiar smile. It was a mood with which she was well acquainted.

“And how are the Chinese?” she continued.

“Loaded,” he spouted, “And very stubborn.”

The doorman, shrouded beneath the umbrella, waited patiently beside the coach, idling in the rain.


Neil held a small onyx box within his outstretched reach.

Lucy gazed at her husband, puzzled, before accepting the sable coffer. As she began to open the diminutive chest, Neil reached into his pocket, removed a hundred dollar bill, and handed the currency to Renaldo.

“Be sure to get my change.”

The doorman acknowledged, dutifully, moving toward the driver to pay the fare.

Meanwhile, Lucy was awestricken by the amber pendant attached to a necklace of diamonds, encased in platinum. The fossilized gemstone, relative dated at two million years, was once a trinket of Wu Zetian, the sole Empress Regnant of China.

Lucy took leave of the precious pendant, to gaze at her husband once more.

“I don’t understand.”

Neil observed the financial transaction at the taxi, simultaneously addressing his wife.

“I don’t know what it is, but it’s very expensive. I thought you should have it.”

Lucy remained motionless, without words. She returned her attention toward the auburn pendant, as Renaldo returned with the remnants of the hundred dollar bill.

It was Monday morning. 7:47 am.

Neil was ready for rest. His wife was prepared for work.

“And your weekend?” he inquired.

Her thoughts still fastened on the pendant, now wandered toward the sullen hues of an ashen sky.

She sighed.


Implode. Part LVI – DK

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Aug 07, 2010 | Post by: Devon Knight No Comments


Because love is eternal.

The immortal city of Rome.
Rome, Italy. Enchanted – DK

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Aug 04, 2010 | Post by: Devon Knight No Comments


Because one golden circle, deserves another.

A golden wreath from Greek antiquity, aloft on a cliff at the Getty Villa.
Malibu, California. Submerged in purple – DK

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Aug 02, 2010 | Post by: Devon Knight No Comments

Implode (Cercle d’Or)

It was unadulterated vanilla, whisked into a buoyant crème, nourished within a thin, diaphanous wafer of the same Tahitian orchid. It was showered with raspberries and intricate slices of kiwifruit, whilst an orange slice and Valrhona chocolate provided delectable pageantry for the indulgent affair.

She called it Cercle d’Or.

For its richness.

For its ambrosial heft on the tongue.

For Monaco.

She laughed, heartily.

“Do you like it?!”

The palatable dessert was coupled with a tawny Niepoort, allowed to bask in a barrel of oak for twenty years. Giancarlo nibbled quietly, in a contemplative manner, returning the partial morsel to the ivory plate. He was patient in his consumption of the delicate confection, as evidenced in his deliberate and careful mastication. The vanilla crème sufficiently imbued within his glands, Giancarlo tended to the corners of his mouth with a linen napkin, of Italian ilk.

He sat momentarily, without words.

“È ambizioso.”

“Si.” She conceded.

He paused momentarily, still contemplating the creamy indulgence.

“Come…” he began, “Un baccio fragile.”

Claire formed a breathless smile, her heart submerged in relief.

“Grazie,” she said. “Sei molto gentile.”

Giancarlo raised the glass of port to his lips, rinsing his gratified palate with the aged beverage.

They occupied a bare cocobolo table near the large, picturesque windows, whose views fell out onto the cobblestoned streets of Mercer. The panoramic scenes were dictated by a late vernal equinox, where sundresses, replete with floral prints, strode along the sidewalks in flowing revelry.

Claire partook in an espresso.

“And your journey?” she inquired. “I trust you were comfortable.”

He prepared to speak again, before a pause.

“It was my first trip on an airplane with a sofa. Like a house in the sky.”

Claire smiled.

“I’m pleased.”

She brandished a faint smile, before becoming lost in the contents of her cup. The sagacious Italian, adorned in woven linen and a cardigan of auburn hues, observed the Lady Mulberry, who appeared sullen, despite the vestiges of success surrounding her.

“In the winter of 1944, I marched through a path in the Alps, vicino Ossola. My regiment were pursuing the Fascists through the apli a Milano, con vigore!”

Claire listened, intently.

“Burdened with a man’s weight in gear and supplies and having depleted our fuel, we became stranded in several meters of snow, with more accumulating each minute.”

He sighed.

“I was still a boy. Diciassette anni. Il comandante, he said to me…”

He paused.

“Do not fret.”

As another summer dress fluttered by the jeweled window, Claire Mulberry stared at the ivory-haired warrior poet, and smiled.

“Thank you for being here with me.”

Implode. Part LV – DK

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    With regard to <em>Implode</em>, certain details, locations, occurences, et al. may not resonate along your cerebral palate if read out of context. For this reason, it is recommended following the episodes in chronological order, as they appear, which requires a bit of time travel.

    The first experience occurs in January 2010 with <a href="">The Birth of Max Mulberry</a>.

    Thank you.

    For allowing me to be apart of you,
    If only for a moment.

    - DK