If you were here, you’d know how I feel, this taking no knowledge, looking for what you don’t know if you find it, this crazy desire to tell you that you can’t hear me, that you can’t see me, that you can no longer hug me. How I would like you to be here, to tell you my new dreams, to see how different my life is, to say that you taught me a lot, even in your absence.
I wanted to celebrate with you the days of the World Cup, I wanted to take you to this beach that I met, I wanted to show you a new film that made me laugh, the music that makes me want to go dancing, so I almost never move my hips, I show them that I now write, that I understand what to do with those travel thoughts that I had, and now I channel my creativity and convert it into text.
- More than anything.
- I wanted you to know that you still live in me.
- Even in such different situations.
- I think you’re there.
- Even if I don’t listen to you.
- I don’t see you or I don’t feel you.
- I feel like everything around me has reflections of us.
- And there are so many.
- They are half-books.
- Broken dreams.
- Uninsured loves and a round of seeking peace leaves me flowing from life.
I still have big, small and contradictory dreams, I am always confused when choosing pizza and much less when deciding my future.
I always think about putting everything I have together and living anywhere in the world, or staying here where I am, living in a yellow lighthouse, making cakes on Sundays, waiting for Hail Mary’s hour sitting on the veranda.
And I don’t know which one’s best for me, because I never feel trapped even if I’m tied up. I like to make my decisions, good or bad, and you know it.
I still see us coming, in an unreal time When I pass through this square, I see you laughing at my melted ice, when I lie in the hammock I hear your hoarse voice announcing the rain, if I pass through the house where we lived, I can feel saturday afternoon with hot coffee on a cold day.
I wonder if these memories will accompany me to the end or if I will lose them along the way, as Mary did with the pieces of bread, and it’s cold in my stomach because I don’t have one, somehow these memories keep alive what we were or are still.
Life plays a bad trick on us, I imagine you arrive while I write this text and end up feeling it, something made noise in the kitchen.
Am I going to look and swim, just a random noise, maybe a sign that I’m here?Yes, I think so. A dubious certainty will follow me every time I think so, but for today I think you came, read what I was writing on my shoulder and you said, “How dramatic are you!”We laughed together, you went to the kitchen, you dropped something and you need to go?
I always wonder what memories are for, if we cannot touch, feel, see and hear an answer from afar: memories keep you alive, not alive, but knowing that you live unique moments and yours alone.
I close the computer, have a glass of wine, listen to music, take a deep breath and move on!Tomorrow, today will be a memory.