Do you love him that much ?


I take a walk

I distance myself

I protect myself

Not from you

But from me

Winter in me prolongs

Spring in me slows to come

Summer in me is mystery

Your smile cannot get the snow to melt

I look at you and ask myself:

“Do you love him that much?”

I guess the answer is still yes

But why then winter never ends

Do I love you that much?

To not fear winter

To live in no season

In timeless longings

Will you be there to mend

The fragile non-existing spring of my heart?


Christmas is approaching

In the USA, there is Thanksgiving tonight. A tradition with no great importance over here in Europe. But I can feel the emotions and the family touch this evening. On Facebook, my friends put on their status: “Happy Thanksgiving to all.” It sounds familiar to me. I feel close to them.

In my city, downtown this evening was over-crowded. There was a parade celebrating the Christmas lightening. Shops were opened till late, shop owners offered warm mulled wine mixed with cinnamon and ginger. The lights were on, everywhere and the magic was there. I don’t specially like Christmas time but I had to admit, Christmas lights just like fireworks, it is impossible not to like and not to find them beautiful. For a second, I just happened to be a kid again, all excited with the colors of the lights and the smell of cinnamon coming from the wreathes made of dried flowers and fruits.

In other places it is still warm with sunshine all year long. Where you are precisely it is now summer with sandy beaches. Christmas will be in a different atmosphere where you are probably. I saw the video you had sent to me earlier on your Jiu Jitsu club. It was not long and I recognized you in the video. Just for one or two seconds. Not more than that. I imagined easily the place where you are right now. I envy the warmth, the sunshine which can reach your skin. I envy your sparring partners, I envy your teachers, those who can hear you laugh everyday. But I don’t lose hope, I guess soon it is gonna be my turn too. To hear you laugh. Even if it would probably not be in a place with summer time and sun. It would still be paradise.

Tonight it feels like Christmas is approaching.

From here, from there. From here I am. From there where you are.

Tonight I miss you. In peace.

My mind

Outside mild autumn. The smell of chestnuts. The sound of footsteps on a ribbonlike layer of fallen leaves.

Suddenly here it is. A bit of spring or a piece of summer. Flowerbuds saying hello. The warm air beckoning the green leaves in dancing. The blue of the sky is definitely the blue of late spring or early summer. I feel warm. My cheeks borrow a pale rose tone.

Where am I ? What just happens ? It is a different world and a different season. This is however what I see and what I feel. It is so real.

Just a blink. The seasons changed, the temperatures inverted, the order of the nature altered.

This mental representation always comes.

When I think of you.

Perfection was not the other person

“They sat on a park bench, held hands, and told each other their stories hour after hour. They were not lonely anymore. They had found and been found by their 100% perfect other. What a wonderful thing it is to find and be found by your 100% perfect other. It’s a miracle, a cosmic miracle.” (1Q84 – Haruki Murakami)

We sat in the car. We had no destination. In front of us a beautiful lake and the imposing gorgeous mountains. From far it looked like the body of a woman, with curves and breasts formed by the shape of the mountains. He put on the music. We talked and listened to the music. People passed by, looking at us, some smiled to us, some not.

Inactivity fit us well.

It was just so perfect that one thought of mine could ruin everything. So I did not think but instead lived. And because there was nothing to think about. Time flew and so did these moments.

Good beats and vibes from his playlist. In front of us this postcard of a country I discovered this very first time. Such beautiful landscape was a blessing.

Perfection was not the other person. Perfection is peace I carried inside of me. It was delightful to add him in this perfection though.

We did not hold hands. I did give him a kiss on the cheek once.

Then we got hungry after two hours and decided to go somewhere for dinner. We drove with no destination. We had great music. Maybe by then I did touch his hand from time to time. I did not remember.

It was not a miracle. It was simple pleasure. We might be perfect for each other or we might not be. We did not find each other. Or maybe we did. I don’t know what it was. The moment was exquisite. Let it be this way. I did not think but instead lived. And so did he. I think.