A little girl in my sofa
I met a little girl in the flea market. I released her from her tutors and brought her home. Now she stays at my place and seems happy with it.
She is exactly one meter high. She has brown hair and big blue eyes, she wears an old-fashioned black cap with a red ribbon and red and green stripes assorted to her robe. Like many street urchins, her soiled face needed some washing, and her dusty bloomers and petticoat required a laundry.
She never seems to mind, whether I am doing silly things or am wise. All day long she just lies sprawling on my sofa, staring at me with a slightly ironic look.
I love my lazy little girl and I watch her quite too often, languorously sprawling and staring.
While I was taking care of her clothes, I found some strangeness in her make. Did her creators want to display her by using the cruel methods of Vlad the 3rd? Strange design. My mysterious little girl.
And now she feels tired, and she lies down, still staring.
Does she need me to say her good night? Her supple arms can hug, but her cold lips don’t kiss. She is gentle with me anyway. And I look at her even more, my lovely and strange little lady.
I put on the record player the 1980 album Flesh + Blood by Roxy Music, I listen to the 9th track No Strange Delight, a fascinating tune with a moving oboe line played by Andy Mackay. And I am captivated by the lyrics sung by Bryan Ferry:
So there goes your life
Disappeared from ever loving friends
And now a slave to obsession
Your strange delight
You lie awake
How your senses ache
Shaking off the night
Is there more strange delight?
My strange delight is there, staring at me, presenting her open hand. Does she ask something from me? Does she want me to stay?
Better men than I
Have tried your strange delight
Is there no strange delight?
No Strange Delight Lyrics, written by Bryan Ferry and Phil Manzanera, © E.G. Music LtD. 1980, Universal Music Publishing Group.