You II

There are many memories of wonderful moments from this trip but the ones that stand out the most are those that I spent with you. I came searching for you on the third floor of the building where you used to sit and could not find you. When I messaged and told you that I was looking for you, you asked where I was and within moments appeared beside me… fresh and lively and looking so happy and beautiful as always. Happy in your uniquely gentle and subtle way. We walked to the kitchen and you poured a glass of water, I purchased a bottle (later, you sent me a photo of plastic waste to make me feel guilty, so typical of you). You sat before me and the energy was electric as it always seems to be. Your French accent, the way you pout your lips as you speak, your blue skirt and white and blue striped top, your elegance and grace, your intelligence and concern for humanity and the environment, all crush me as I stand before you, hopeless, consumed by your presence. Before you I have no resistance, no control, no strength to do anything other than to love. Later, at lunch, you touched my fingers, my arm, my shoulder, and you joked tenderly about the things that I said and the things that I did and had done. I could say more… but you get the general idea.




Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

french night

  03:33am and sleep is merely a vision, a wish, a dream. A day of work lies ahead and yet, here in bed, there is no rest. There was a reconnection, a revival of a love long lost, but it was brief and flickering and, as usual, something popped up suddenly to sever the connection as rapidly as it was regained. The ship sails on, silent and alone in the night. Who would have thought that a fuck in the French night could rekindle so many feelings… from love to despair. And a forgotten one: the feeling of becoming less significant when one’s lover finds someone more interesting via a chance encounter.  
Read more

04:30

  At 04:30 I give up trying to sleep and make a cup of coffee. It’s the 15 th of November and the window is open because the weather is so pleasant. There’s an ever so slight movement of the air that pushes the smell of coffee to me. I’m so tired that it feels almost like a pleasant drug-induced state. Most of my friends are in the UK and Europe, so there are people to chat to. The American night is silent… most people have already arrived home from their late nights, and the early risers have not yet risen. Many people believe that if they wake up at 5am they will automatically become rich. It makes me smile. Most people either don’t have the discipline to wake up at 5am or, if they do, they wake up and doom scroll through Instagram or similar on their phones. Typically, when I am awake in the night, I am researching the stock market, reading a book, writing, having a conversation with Europe, or watching videos about life in Japan or Vietnam. I also spend a lot of time studying ...
Read more

Salt Lake City: Part I

Image
A page, a palimpsest, a text written again and again over the previous text. The story is old and grows out of context as the author ages. It’s one of disappearance. Disappearance of youth and of love. I spend my minutes watching videos of how to configure a thermostat. The rest is all about the end… how every country is ending, the world is ending, how we will all die in chains in a dystopian nightmare. This is what they tell us.   In the meantime, old photos are like a haunting portrait from the Picture of Dorian Gray but, in real life, it is in reverse, of course, the portrait remains the same as we grow older, lose our youth and, if we ever had it, beauty.                     I took a bus out to the Natural History Museum at the foot of the mountains in Salt Lake City, Utah. I accidentally got off the bus too early and had a fair distance to walk in the heat and direct sun. Nevertheless, ...
Read more