Thusira is my irresistible desire, inescapable urge, powerful craving, and overwhelming lust. His shuttle missions across the planet Earth during the summer solstice remind me of “Shall I Compare thee to a Summer’s Day”, the Bard’s Sonnet 18. Thusira captures and captivates my mental universe; his robust, baritone, and sonorous voice falls in between the higher tenor and lower bass registers, and that itself makes him the star of an opera.
In my euphoric and ecstatic imaginations, Thusira grabs the position of the countertenor of Giacomo Puccini’s beloved classic ‘La Boheme’ and melodious ‘Madame Butterfly’. Neither the characteristics of a shrill whistle nor are the signs of breathy tones distinguished in his high notes. Tone, power, and consistency take the centre stage of his entire vocal range.
Graceful protagonist
Thusira is my muscular and graceful protagonist. In my vivid imagination, I coined his name. He is my elated and euphoric rapture. I cannot help calling him my bee’s knees, despite the same being a noun phrase that infiltrated into the English language’s “Parts of Speech” mostly during the 1920s that resembles the very essence of “Exception”- another English noun that initially cohabited with the English language, most probably during the medieval period. In that light itself, Thusira becomes a distinguished exception throughout my epic.
He swept me off my feet. I am utterly being won over by the charm of the most refined and well-bred cosmopolitan man in Thusira. He is completely smitten by the breathtaking and overwhelming beauty of Paris, a city pulsed with a vibrant energy. In my connected inventiveness, I would go on a romantic walk hand in hand with Thusira; strolling along the magnificent arches and aqueducts of the bustling city of Paris.
I would develop a tremendous sense of stinginess on the warmth of his sturdy hand that goes around my waist whilst walking through the charming streets of the authentic village of Montmartre in the heart of Paris.
I have a recollection on the countless number of times where I uttered with myself of the lovey-dovey and amorous boat ride that I may go on the Seine-River whilst Thusira being beside me, taking his arm around my waist; my sheer thought itself consistently calls up a sense of placid and serene ambience with added glamour and prestige. Along with Thusira, I would sail into the benign rocking of the boat that inspires our utter sense of serenity and placidity. The intense laughter and profound connection that dwell within ourselves give birth to everlasting memories, treasured together.
Witnessing the elating and stirring atmosphere at the dynamic and vivid Cannes film festival is my fancy where Thusira would love buzzing around the unique city with exciting and overwhelming events. Out of deliberation, Thusira’s intrinsic sense of superior complexity makes him somewhat elitist; this vibrant sentimental further makes him exclusive and inaccessible. Embracing the city’s immense and breathtaking glamour and grace in an alien land is not my forte. Together with Thusira, being in the French- speaking principality of Monaco, exploring its opulent hotels and casinos would be a challenging dream that would hardly materialize even during the twilight of life on the planet earth.
Albeit, I fear that Thusira’s strong sense of entitlement, characterised by his rare ability of consoling and condoling, would leave me with a heavy heart, I am addicted and attracted by his utter drive for perfection. Whilst getting used to his frequent and terrifying lack of concern on my personal autonomy in a city that never sleeps but ever illuminates its royal elegance, I repeatedly fall in love with him. Thusira, a typically curious man with a never-ending lust for exploring every nook and corner of the world effortlessly becomes my enduring and sustainable exception.
Spirit of reconciliation
His voice makes me stranded among thousands of people, even in a gathering where a peace treaty is negotiated and even in an audience where an actual spirit of reconciliation is sought-after. Back in the Island of the pearl of the Indian ocean, I find my true self whose whims and fancies had a fatal struggle along the French Riviera at the cost of my unachievable imaginations. My poor being is waiting to go hand in hand with Thusira along the Marine drive of the then Ceylon, now the splendid island of Sri Lanka. Last but not least, I live in my fanciful and poetic imaginations where I would get to the Mount Lavinia Beach hand in hand with Thusira where we both would be the romantic witnesses of the blazing and dazzling sun, setting at the horizon.
