She came by, a grass straw in her mouth. I found her cool from the beginning, I must confess. Stage-friendly she was, carrying about the attitude of a born music performer.
Self-assertive, fresh and free, just like the grass she was playing with between her teeth. A bit nomadic, also, like an artist on the road, moving freely around the world. But I guess the genuine attitude of a child it's not to be so much analyzed. She caught my eye from the very first moment, which makes it a love-at-first sight encounter.
and there she was, all smiles and suns.
She attached to you immediately, trustfully and unconditionally. She was warm and bright, making her name real, being what she was called: Branesh=brightness.
She liked to strim the guitar, to look her guitar teacher in the eye and her gentle touch of the strings filled you with music.
She was the 3rd in line in their family and the shiest. Maybe that is why she quietly enjoyed being photographed. Not being used to the camera and to attention focused on her alone, she would pose.
She and Branesh would slid under your clothes (huge socks and shoes, heavy boots, large caps), cheerfully playing around in your room. I always thought that carrying somebody's clothes is a sign of love. So I rejoiced in receiving their declaration, in knowing their love fits me like the best of clothes.
She was the defender of the family; the smallest, and therefore, the strongest. At the beginning she checked on us with such frowned eyes that we thought she were a boy, the only boy in the family, and therefore, their protector. At our next visit her face brightened up and her smile showed she now accepted and recognized us as friends. We were happy to know she gave us her accord to be there, in her home, with her family. From that day on she was no longer against us, but with us: feeding us, claping her hands, drumming on our songs, rejoicing in our presence. We were not tolerated in the sisters' home, we were loved.
We do not know how they could feel (sense) our presence when we would approach their house. Maybe it simply works like this with the persons you like. Fact is they would run to welcome us and, pulling us by the hands, draw us into their garden. Burtican, the strongest, would happilly climb down the ditch in front of the house, just to land in our arms. We then gloriously belonged to the Negatu girls.
It is said that if you carry a guitar with you, you will be king where ever you go. But what is a king without a kingdom? Our princesses would share their home, their kingdom with us.