Dasha

By G. R.

"Dasha" is a captivating and profound love story, set amidst the majestic mountains of Tibet and the modern metropolises of China. The book tells the tale of a man who encounters an energetic and vibrant woman named Dasha unexpectedly, while he is in a phase of personal exploration. The author takes us on a journey rich in curiosity, adventure, and discovery, outlining the personal growth of the protagonists and the evolution of their relationship amidst a backdrop of sociopolitical and cultural conflicts.

Dasha and the protagonist, united by their passion for cultural exploration and mutual learning, fall in love on a journey that takes them to unexpected places and unusual situations, from the mountain trail surveilled by mysterious cameras, to donkeys carrying loads of construction stones that autonomously find their way, to the top of a hill where an enchanting garden lies. The encounter with a young Tibetan sheds light on the difficulties and tensions of the Chinese occupation of Tibet, a delicate theme that adds depth and realism to the narrative.

However, life takes an unexpected turn with the arrival of Tuyana, their adorable daughter. The joy of motherhood and the challenges of being parents in a complex world further enrich their life experience. Tuyana's first adventures on the Great Wall of China add a touch of tenderness and humor to the plot.

"Dasha" is a story of love and growth, of discovery and loss. It is a book that explores the essence of humanity and the importance of the journey in discovering oneself and others. The bittersweet and romantic ending offers a twist that enhances the beauty of memories and the painful inevitability of separation. A book that promises to make readers reflect on the complexity of life and the wonder of love

• Language: English
• Publisher: Giovanni Ricco
• Release date: Jul 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215019061

Book preview

Dasha

Published by Giovanni Ricco

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© Copyright 2023 Giovanni Ricco

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Drawings and Pictures by Giovanni Ricco

Content

Preface

The Garden

The Trip

The Face

Sailing

Egypt

Lake Baikal

England

The Thames

Como

Opera

Venice at Night

The Castle

Bangkok

The Temple

Moscow

A Mistake?

Tuyana

The Wind

Dasha

Preface

Welcome to the reading of this love saga, a story that is not merely a product of my imagination, but rather a fabric interwoven with personal truths and unrealized desires. This book is a transfigured form of my autobiography, with almost every scene narrated drawn directly from the plot of my life. I have chosen to frame them in the format of a tale to allow you, dear readers, to immerse yourselves more pleasantly in my story.

Each described situation either represents a page torn from my life's book, or a scene rewritten as I wished it would have occurred. This book is a fresco of the many shades of my being, revealing who I was and who I have become, in the most intimate recesses of my essence. My aspiration is not so much to appear as a better person, but rather to illustrate my ability to express my feelings and my being in an authentic and limitless way.

The character of Dasha is an affectionate portrait of a real person whom I was fortunate to cross paths within the journey of my life. A fascinating girl with her strengths and flaws, who, in the story, manifests in all her complexity. She represents not only the way I perceived her, but also how I wished she would be.

In this romantic tale, I invite you to share my life and love experience with me, through the pages of a book that I hope will touch you deeply, just as it did with me during the writing. Thus, step into the world of Dasha and mine, and let yourselves be carried away by the current of our love.

The Garden

She twirled around me like a puppy delighted in its master, dancing and trotting on tiptoe in the late spring afternoon. The city garden was vast, and the main tree-lined avenue was resplendent in its greenery, with trees swaying gently in the breeze. She was joyous and expressed her happiness by dancing around me. She laughed, laughed so much that I stopped her and kissed her. She responded by putting her arms around my shoulders and crossing them behind me as she was wont to do, hands open and body close to mine, while I held her by her slender hips to claim her in our little corner of reality surrounded by color. She tilted her head back in a radiant smile and looked up at the sky, happy to be under the light of such a vividly blue sky.

We were due to meet some friends that very evening, musicians who would delight us with their piano and violin performances while we sipped a bit of gin to enliven the evening. The present was effervescent, and down the avenue, our top floor home in a building stood, with a huge skylight and many splendid paintings on the walls, often of female nudes in sensual poses, works of art created by me.

The evening was advancing, and she never stopped twirling like a little girl would. As we walked, we stopped at a charming ice-cream stand. We sat for a bit to taste the myriad flavors she was fond of. I watched her as she joyously moved from one flavor to another just like a mischievous child. I admired her marble-like skin that smelled of jasmine, so soft to touch and without a single mole, perfect as only in fairytales you can imagine.

A little bird hopped towards us and then another, and another, looking for food that the patrons of the stand distributed. One perched on the backrest of the chair and turned its little head towards her. Shadows lengthened and I enjoyed this moment of leisure, feeling the warmth still filtering through the leopard-spotted leaves. We stayed like this while she eagerly savored her ice cream and I held what seemed like the hand of a small and delicate child, the hand of a musician with nails shyly polished in a light color.

Immersed in this tranquility, the chirping of birds, people seated around us were talking, who knows about what. Another couple was sitting at our table, the barista served coffee and pastries with an almost sacred calm. Time seemed non-existent, everything appeared suspended, still, yet dynamic at the same time. A little leaf fell from the majestic tree that stood before us and she touched my hand in a spontaneous, instinctive gesture, smiled at me with that enchanting look every man long to receive. Then she said, We're running a bit late, but I replied, Who cares. The guests will arrive a bit early, the door is open. They can steal everything, but we're here. They won't be able to steal anything important. Her hand was soft, her long hair likewise. We would make love when all the guests had left, and this realization heightened the pleasure of being together until the end of that day.

Thus, we walked a bit down the tree-lined avenue in the late afternoon. Our house was not far from there, it was just a little ahead, outside the park. The guests arrived, they were all young, laughing couples, well-dressed, everyone was smiling that evening. Then there were a couple of new paintings I had done that drew some attention. What does this represent? they asked me, when did you do this?. It was amusing that they showed interest, I laughed at each of their questions, sipping a bit of brandy as I did every evening. The highlight came when I took Dasha by the hand and brought her to the piano, these were rituals, but that evening we would do things a bit differently.

She wore her beautiful black dress that contrasted with her porcelain skin. I went to her room and asked: Are you ready?. She turned around, she was sitting in front of the mirror, beautiful