Free Warsaw by Richard Foreman

ardour of his thoughts and will. He was enraptured immediately,
sublimely. She was beautiful; indeed Adam later postulated that he did not know
what beauty was until that moment. He craned his head further out of the
window, to the point perhaps where he was in danger of falling, as if he were a
sailor being drawn to his death by the siren's song. Adam's heart faltered yet
beat wildly as well - pumping blood to that more significant of organs. He was
the poet, she his inspiration and muse the youth exclaimed to himself later
that evening. She would be his ‘Beatrice’, ‘Lotte’. Fate and Love no longer
seemed subjective, fiducial ideas. He suddenly believed Dostoyevsky when he had
posed that ‘Only Beauty can save the world.’ She laughed - as did the child who
she gaily pushed on the swing - and seemed to colour the air with flowers and
music as she did so. Jessica wore a short sleeve navy blue blouse and a
knee-length white skirt. Such was her womanly figure - but adolescent features
and vitality - she could have been aged fifteen to twenty-five, the student
imagined that sultry night. Indeed the idealist stayed up all that evening
writing about her,
    ‘...Her lips are the colour of strawberry ice-cream. Her
arms are slender, graceful, her bosom a treasure chest. She has both taste and
elegance wearing even the most simple, casual of outfits. What I would not have
given to be that child (her brother I suspect) who she lovingly embraced and
kissed upon the cheek. If I envy the boy I like him also, for being so clearly
devoted to my seraphim. Should I envy the rays of the sun also for kissing her
fair complexion and enriching the lustre of her fine golden hair?’
    A possessed Adam went on during that first evening to write
half a page about her eyelashes alone. His heart and imagination were fired. He
could not stop thinking, nor writing, about her. He kept a special journal
which he half filled even before their first meeting. Duritz got to the house
early and left as late as possible the next day in sweet hope of some form of
contact with his employer's neighbours. Our ‘Pip’ devoured every piece of
information about his ‘Stella’. Her name was perfect for her, Jessica. Adam
found out which school she attended and read its syllabus so that he could have
something in common and display his intellectual plumage when they finally met.
Thankfully there was a bench on the street and he often waited there,
pretending to read a book, for his heroine to pass by on her way home from
school. Just to see her fed and teased out his desire; so too she was a fresh
picture for the poet every day as his subject always seemed to wear some new
outfit, or do her hair differently, or enchant him with a new mannerism or
facial expression. He blushed, gulped and shyly looked away the first time that
she appeared to notice him there. He cursed himself for half of the night for
not smiling the smile he had prepared, or introducing himself with the lines he
had rehearsed. For the rest of the evening however the willing slave bathed in
the relief and excitement that she had noticed him and, somehow, he had
advanced his campaign. The would-be philosopher was consumed with passion, or
with forming stratagems to bring their worlds closer together. To further
ingratiate himself into her life the wily student came up with the idea of
telling Mr Goldman of Michael's deficiency in the sciences. As the house's
library appeared to lack the necessary text books - and it would have been a
needless expense to purchase them - were the family friendly enough with the
doctor next door to borrow the books that he needed? So the tutor made a brief
foray into the house and introduced himself to the Rubenstein’s, convinced that
the sortie had been a success (the father indeed seemed pleased and impressed with
the young student that he was considering a career in the medical profession) -
although unfortunately their daughter was out that evening.
    Such