I did it…

I calculate how long it would take to cover your body with kisses.

I would pose my lips on each millimeter of your skin.

Each kiss would last one second.

It would take six hours. At least.

I would not leave out any part of your body.

I would take pleasure in doing it.

I would look at you in the eyes from time to time.

I would smile at you from time to time.

You would let me do it.

You would smile at me.

You would smile at me with your eyes.

You would kiss my hands.

You would return some of my kisses

By kissing me even longer and softer.

This would not be a dream.

As

I did it.

Eight hours.

Between talks.

Laughs.

And love.

I did cover your body with kisses.

Every inch.

You did return my kisses, each of them.

This was not a dream.

In between I remembered saying: I love…

Just “I love…” and no more words

I remembered you saying: “do you…”

And no more words.

This was not a dream.

The story of a suitcase

My flight arrived in the morning. Extremely tired as I could not sleep during the flight. I got out of the airport and took a cab home. It was another thick dark grey sky- day but I was glad to be home after three weeks away. The day before I arrived I wrote him a message, asking him to come and pick me up at the airport. He could not at the time I asked as he had to teach until 2pm that day. I live in a building with no elevator and my flat is on the second floor. My back and heels problems do not allow me to carry the big and heavy suitcase up to the apartment. I could have asked the taxi driver and tipped more but somehow I preferred asking him. He told me not to worry and to leave my luggage downstairs. He told me he would come later on in the afternoon and bring it up for me. He also suggested me to come to his workplace instead of going home from the airport. Anything is possible just to avoid me carrying the suitcase up to my flat; anything is possible just to avoid me walking up all the steps with the suitcase. For that he wrote mail after mail to make sure that I would not do it by myself and I would wait for him to come. I answered him to not worry and that the suitcase would wait for him in the hall of the building.

I arrived home, took a shower and especially tried hard to not fall asleep. I drank coffee then tea and refused to eat to avoid the process of digesting which could make me even more tired and sleepy. He would come by 3pm. I roughly calculated the time he got out of class and the time he would need to reach my apartment. At 1pm I put on my pajama and struggled against the fatigue. I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked unhealthy. My eyes were dark. My skin was pale. My hair was a mess. I was even more tired as the afternoon went by. At 2pm I was almost in a dream, walking around my living room. I practiced harpsichord for ten minutes but my fingers could hardly move. At 2.30 I received a text from him. He said he arrived soon. At 2.40pm I decided cowardly to lie on my bed for a few minutes. Things not to do as I fell asleep in less than one second. He rang the bell at 3pm. He could use the spare key I gave him once, but no, he rang. I woke up, more than stoned. I opened the door. He was there with my suitcase. He smiled and said that he woke me up he was sure. He said that the suitcase was light but of course not for me. I let him in. I realized that I was still on pajama. I remembered my face in the mirror one hour before. Pale skin, no makeup, hair in a mess, tiny eyes behind an old pair of eyeglasses, the one I only use at home, in front of no one. I said something like I am ugly and in pajama. He answered with a smile and a sound “tttssssss”. I added – And I am fat from all the food in the US. He said – nope you are not. I asked him to make us some tea and went directly to the living room and lied down on the sofa. I am so tired and lazy, could you make a green tea for us please. I was a great host, of course. I talked to him from the sofa. He asked me how was my trip and if I was happy to see my family over there. He came back with a pot of tea. He sat down next to me. I told him everything about my trip. When I checked my watch for the first time it was 6pm. He was there for three hours and we just talked non-stop. I felt like we were building together a new world or we were belonging to another world than the one we are living in now. I told him I had nothing to cook and I was not hungry either and all I wanted was to hit my bed. The whole time I was with him I was just myself and looked like nothing else than myself in the morning, when I get out of the shower. The whole time he looked at me in his unique way of looking at me. He said he would leave me so that I could go to bed. The whole time he talked to me in his unique way of talking to me. I told him the next time I would cook for him and I would be more awake and attentive to the conversation. I said that the next time we meet I would talk more. He laughed, kissed me on the forehead. I accepted the kiss. I stood there, barefoot, in my sloppy pajama, looking at him putting on his jacket and his backpack. He kissed me again on the forehead and left.

I went to bed right after that. The next morning I woke up and got a text from him: “Hope you got a sound sleep. I like that you feel comfortable around me in your pink pajama (with a smiley)”, to which I answered: “Very comfortable but still very ugly”, to which he in turn answered with a big-laugh smiley.

Routine

The alarm of the clock on the wall was set to end each training session after five minutes. 9pm sharp he finished the training and came toward me. I was sitting at the reception area. He touched me from behind the neck and asked if I would like something to drink. He said that the coffee here was good and strong. I said: No thanks. Wait for me I will go shower, he added.

Before he left for the shower he introduced me to the owner of the gym and his partner, then some of his sparring partners. When he came back he asked me if I wanted to visit the gym. I said yes. He told me that he liked the color of the wall, a kind of old pink color. He said he came here every evening, mostly because he is the principal coach but also because this place is his second home.

We left the gym and waited for the bus to come. The night was bright as it was full moon. It was not cold at all for a month of October. We went downtown for a drink. He did not talk a lot this time. Normally when we met each other he seemed happier. He told me not to worry as he was not in good shape. I told him that it was okay, we don’t need to talk a lot. For some reason I did not feel the need to talk a lot either. We had each of us a green tea. We looked at each other in silence. But there was no embarrassment in the silence. For the first time since we have known I asked first if we could leave. The idea of seeing him with a sad face made me even sadder than him. It was 11.30 pm. The last bus would be only in one hour. Usually we stayed until there was no more buses passing by. He said ok and held my hands for less than thirty seconds. We walked slowly to a square where all the buses stop. My bus arrived first. I kissed him very quickly on the cheek and entered the bus. He waved at me and sent me a kiss. I smiled at him and waved back.

Later in the night he wrote to me a private message on Facebook: “I am sorry. Bad mood lately. Always a pleasure to see you…”

I answered him early in the morning: “Don’t be sorry. It was nice seeing you though I never like to see you down…”

Then I opened my blog and wrote again after one year and four months of absence. About him. My inspiration.

Later on during the day I wrote him a long letter. I did not say in the letter how much I still love him. Just how much I care.

Later on that night he sent me a good-night song just like he did every night since one year and four months.

Remembering Phuket

I am glad I discovered the blog suhailabjj.wordpress.com, a fresh and cute blog of a 22 years old SouthAfrican girl who is a kindergarten teacher, starts Jiujitsu in Phuket to get out of her comfort zone and who likes cupcakes. I am thankful that you shared her blog to me because when I read hers it brings me right to you. Without any efforts.

It reminds me of Phuket. Nai Harn beach, Kata beach, Phuket town and those nice bars with live music where you can ask the singer to sing your favorite song, those roundabouts  with crazy traffic, the market and the food in the streets. And even Patong with its very bad reputation has its charm. I remember when I saw an italian restaurant with your name, and I went on scooter for an hour looking for it again to take a picture just to show it to you. I remember how I like so much the banana trees and the blue sky matching perfectly with the blue of the swimming pool. Life in Phuket, hectic in noise and dust but oh well, so cool and no pressure. Now when you tell me where you are, where you have been, I can picture your places because I have been there too. It is such a good thing you had chosen to be there.

Traveling makes us rich. You know it and I know it too. I am glad you could make this trip. And you are happy. Because seeing you happy is the most important thing for me. The distance seems nothing to me as long as we share what we live. As long as I can catch up with blogs such as the one of Suhaila.

This morning I am all about Phuket. I would not mind a bowl of rice and shrimps dipped in some delicious red curry sauce. I would not mind a “live” hello of yours or a smile telling me to take life easy, which I do.

This morning I am all about Phuket and every morning I am all about you.

The process of falling in love

The sad truth is that certain types of things can’t go backward. Once they start going forward, no matter what you do, they can’t go back the way they were. If even one little thing goes awry, then that’s how it will stay forever.” (South of the Border , West of the Sun – Haruki Murakami)

The process of falling in love with him was a possibility. Not necessarily relevant. But when it comes to love, can we ever talk about relevance.

For a while, my process of falling in love was there. I put it in place. All the feelings were ready to be displayed, to be shown, even to be said. I was constructing my feelings for him like a kid trying to build a sandy castle on the beach, on a sunny day with a light breeze, having time in front of him. The castle would have just been unique and beautiful.

I was constructing my feelings for him. These feelings had a strong flavor of something more than a friendship, just sweet enough to remind of me of what love could be at the very beginning. Yet it was just a decent sweet feeling in a blurry zone, standing somewhere in the thin line between friendship and love. I was building it slowly and slowly. And carefully. Like building a tower of cards. Extremely delicate and fragile. At any time the cards could fall down and the tower could collapse. All those days, I was shivering with fear. Fear of doing something wrong. I was not all the time focused. Sometimes I pulled away, my fingers were hesitating. The cards waiting for me, the tower unfinished.

Then suddenly, the process of falling in love with him was something I could not come through with. I kept thinking about that. Why did I stop? Was the sandy castle of the kid destroyed because a too strong rising tide  just swept it away in no time. Or maybe the kid got fed up and wanted to play with something else. Or maybe it was too difficult to continue. I did not know why I suddenly stopped. Maybe it was too challenging to construct a tower with cards, something which could be finally too fragile to keep. Maybe I had no patience, maybe I was not gifted enough for such process.

I had thought about that several times. Then I realized that falling in love with someone might not be a process but it should be something more off-hand and instant. That I don’t have time to think through. Like an evidence. Like winter is cold and summer is warm.

But then I also realized that I wanted to go through this process of falling in love with him so that I could slow down my feelings for him. I was buying myself some time. Because it was evident that I was already falling in love with him. Like an evidence. Like an innocent child. Like a sweet candy bar.

The process of falling in love with him was superfluous. Because the feelings were already there. Certainly between friendship and love. And certainly more than just friendship and more than just love. That was why I was hesitating the whole time. The tower of cards would never be accomplished and the sandy castle probably would be just sand. At some point.

Love

Early this morning I did what I had never done before. I started to read again my first post of this blog. “His ears” – I went back to the past for a long moment. I was not surprised by the feelings carried in the post. The immensity of my love for him. The deep and sincere love for him. It was so powerful and sincere that I almost fainted while I read the piece. How can/could I love that much? Loving that much just empties you all inside. But I don’t feel empty at all. I feel lucky somehow. So many things had happened in between. Between this first post and all the other ones in my blog. However the power of that love just stands out among all other things.

I don’t know what I am feeling right now. The question is not if I still feel that love. The answer is in the fact that I had once felt it so strongly. How can/could it be possible? That is the question for today. It is not scary. It is just a wonderful feeling. There has nothing to do with him, where he is/was, who he is/was. It is just me and myself and that immense love, once being out there for this person. It came to me that way. When I read “His ears”, I have lived each sensation of that love, again. No words were exaggerated. I just love/loved that person so much.

Yes, the question is: “How could it be possible?”

There are/were so many possibilities, so many opportunities, so many aspects in everything. How could it be possible that a love of this kind exists/existed/lasts/lasted?

Ich liebe Dich

Almost two months ago, I met a wonderful person. Who had become my friend. Thanks to him, I discovered Ludwig Hirsch, a great austrian songwriter and singer.

I don’t understand all of the german/austrian lyrics but each of his songs moves me. And if I let go, I could cry at the first notes.

I chose this song because “Ich liebe dich” we can all understand. The language of love is universal and easy.

I share this song to all of you, dear friends of my blog.

I share back this song to you, my friend, you who had shared to me Ludwig Hirsch and many more songs. Words are sometimes misunderstood. Words are source of misunderstandings and multiple subjective interpretations. So here is the song for you too this morning. Beyond words, letting go all complicated paths. Just listen to the song. Music is all we have, let make it rule our friendship.

Love and light to all