You do not need Milan.

You do not need to go back to Milan to live the same emotions. Every time you meet with him, here you are, exactly as if you were back to Milan all over again. Isn’t it beautiful or magic?

It was even more intense than Milan. You do not need the romantic setting of Milan to feel romantic again. You do not need to be in a palazzo to feel like a queen. You do not need to have anything special because he is already there and so unique and special.

It seems impossible for you to describe your dinner with him. There are so many different feelings you have experienced that it would take you too long to understand each of them at every moment of dinner. Nothing is obvious, not even the fact that you were captivated by his beauty of always. This beauty that made you fall for him in the first place. Despite the gloomy fall weather, he was wearing a t-shirt and his two strong tanned arms look even more beautiful than ever.


His silver gray hair was rebellious but made him look as majestic and powerful as a lion.


At all times, he would clear unnecessary items on the table so that he could hold your hands. He would squeeze your hands very tightly, bring them to his lips and kiss them. You would caress his hair that he would want to cut soon but you would tell him not to touch it, it is so perfect the way it is in your eyes.
The width of the table would push you two to almost stand up so you could kiss each other.

You would not feel the cold outside. His kisses to say goodbye would make you forget you were in November. Like two adolescents, you would kiss each other in the middle of the street as if you were alone in the city. The night was bright, the stars looked at you and shined in the dark. His kisses would last an eternity. You would come closer to him and look for his arms. You were becoming one with him under his coat.

You would not need Milan to feel warm. Milan was right there within you. And him. It was better than Milan. Every time you meet with him, it is better than the previous time. Every time there is this new magic nourished by the same old unique emotions. There was Milan and there was “after Milan”.

It is too late to doubt…

“This endured absence is nothing more or less than forgetfulness. I am, intermittently, unfaithful. This is the condition of my survival” (Roland Barthes)

In the early stage of being in love, moments of uncertainty are numerous and hit you in different shapes. There are moments of longing, when your body feels no energy, the only energy left you seem to have is the thought of him. And even so, your brain gets tired of this only, repetitive thought of him. You miss him and your body is aching. Soon even your body is tired of missing him. But the memories of those moments spent with him the last 19 months and in Milan still work.

Your brain is almost out of battery. Your body almost numb. In uncertainty and fatigue, like a miracle, the love you feel for him is still so vivid. While your body carrying physically this pain and longing for love, and missing him for days seems to want to let this love go, there is still something else remaining. And that, that is the love itself. How to explain it? You cannot explain it.

The love you feel for him is outside of what your brain can sustain and of what your body can carry. Have you ever thought of that kind of feeling ? This love that belongs to nothing, nowhere, detached from everything. It is simply love in its pure form. Like uncut cocaine. Should we compare.

The moment you think you are too tired to think of him. Your thoughts for him are still there, hanging above you, looking at you. Triumphant.

Love and doubts go together, people say that. They go together but they function separately. Doubt as much as you can, it will not change the love you have already felt for him.

You know it. One second. Just that one second. All you need to fall in love.

In the early stage of being in love, there are doubts but mostly there is the love that is already there. You hope that when you doubt, when you ask yourself why you fall for him, you will love him less or stop loving him, or waking up, finding yourself silly to have falling for him. What you do not know is that it is too late. You doubt to survive. You know that you already give him your heart. When he came to Milan to join you, doubts are superflous. Doubts are made for survival.

24 hours in Milan or the G. experience – Part two: the Prosecco

After the longest kiss of the history of kissing, he asks what you would like to drink. You ask for a Prosecco. He knows you do not drink a lot. He is surprised you even order alcohol. Every time at his place, you never even finish a small glass of wine. You have wine just to say Cheers to him.

You sit next to him. The Swiss Corner is all white with design furniture. A long white bar in the middle. Upstairs is the Swiss Embassy. You joke that you two are too Swiss that even abroad the appointment is in a Swiss place. The waiter brings plenty of food with the drinks. It is Italy. Fabulous Italy.

He speaks a perfect Italian. He asks about your three days in Milan, in details he wants to know what you were doing. He looks at you while you are talking. His deep blue eyes. He holds your hand. You touch from time to time his silver bracelet. The colour of silver enhances the colour of his tanned skin. You kiss him on the cheek. He kisses you back. You put your head on his shoulder. You have not been that tender and sweet to any man for the last five years. You feel comfortable, airy, happy. You trust him. You feel peaceful. You ask him about his journey, if he got bored on the train.

You are like a cat, getting closer and closer to his master. You like his smell. You put your nose in his neck. He kisses your hair. People look at you. People smile. People smile to your happiness. In the time of Covid, he makes you feel like nothing else would happen to you or anyone else in this world. You feel safe with him. It is just 5pm. You do not want the evening to start. 5pm forever. Aperitivo forever.

When you finish the Prosecco and stand up, you feel tipsy. You tell him. He says that is because you are not used to alcohol and it is normal as Prosecco is also very sweet. You do not tell him but you know that it is not because of the Prosecco that you are tipsy. It is because of him. His smell. The texture of his hair when you caress it with your fingers. The skin of his hand when you caress it with your cheek. These small things from him that make you tipsy. Not the Prosecco. Do not blame the Prosecco.

There was that one second.

The third day after Italy. You wake up this morning thinking of him. Like a routine. No surprise. He is under your skin. Any small particles of your skin has a bit of something of him. The longing of his caresses and kisses is there. Not as strong as the day before. But still there.

Before you went to sleep last night, he sent you some pictures of your trip together. Without comments. Just some pictures. You replied to him with an emoji who waives a Hi. And that was about it. You are always shy. You could write to him every hour. You could send to him heart emojis. Tons of them. But you never did. Even if when he sent them to you. You answered with a smile.

Though love is not a game, you do not reveal yourself. You are always careful. You protect yourself, building a wall between him and you. And why is that? You are afraid he is not available. You are afraid things will change between you two if you open yourself up. You wish you could one day put down this wall between you two and tell him how much you care for him.

In Italy you realize you have surrendered him. In Italy when he holds your hands, walking around the Old Town, when he stopped suddenly in the middle of the street, around a corner, to kiss you. You know you have crossed the line of no-return. You could no longer protect yourself. There is this fatal second when you know you are falling in love and cannot take it back.

There is that moment when he tells you that the only person who cares about him in this world is probably you. He says this, holding your hands and looking at you. This moment lasts one second, two seconds or ten seconds, it does not matter.

Strategy. Protection. Rationality. Control. There was that one second when all of these have no more power. The brain has surrendered. One second. That is all. Like Murakami said: the rose is red, the ice is cold, I am in love.

Possibilities

She wakes up this morning knowing she will be happy. There is a space inside of her and beyond her where an infinity of possibilities just dancing in front of her eyes.

There was that moment when she left him the other day in the morning. That precise moment very short, very furtive when she knew. What she knew, what she felt was common to her a long time ago, the time when she was in love. When she left his apartment, when they kissed goodbye, when he held her in his arms, she knew that love has hit her. Gently, softly but very clearly. And that was just it. Like an evidence. Not a surprise. She did not think of what could happen after that feeling. Would it work out between them ? Would they be available for each other ? Would he love her back ? These questions were not relevant as the present moment, the moment of this new-born love, was more important. She was honest to herself. She accepted to be in love. With him and with them and with their story. In this space where they are and where they were, anything can be possible. They are who they are, and they can be no one, and anything could happen to them, as long as there is this connection and intimacy. Because to be anything else, first there should be a connection.

Even knowing that she could get hurt or she could suffer, the suffering is still part of this infinity of possibilities. They have found each other. Somehow, somewhere in their lost souls and extreme loneliness, they have met and they have made space for each other. Short moments, long moments, intense moments they gave to each other. The kisses. The talks. The gazes. The naked bodies. What they offered to each other was never insignificant. Their lives so apart and yet so close, close in the search for another soulmate, or simply for a beautiful connection.

She wakes up this morning, accepting that kind of destiny. The kind of destiny that includes the love for him or the beginning of the love for him. Her heart is full. That is how she starts her day. In a space of infinite possibilities and he is one of them.

I would marry him in white, in purple or in any color of the rainbow

photo-93Yesterday I was telling you that my love is calm. And sometimes it just sounds like a melody played by a flute. This morning I woke up at 7 because I had the feeling that my heart was beating so loudly when I thought of him in my sleep, in my dreams, that I needed to wake up. Yesterday I was telling you that my love did not suffocate me anymore. This morning I had to wake up because my heart did suffocate me. Consciously or not consciously, still asleep or not, I felt that my love was heavy and weights on my chest. But not in a negative way. Just physically. I love him so much. I just felt the weigh of that love, of my heart. Really. Physically.  I did not invent it. It is just a natural phenomenon. My love is big. The organ of love is the heart. So my heart weights.

Consciously or not consciously, maybe I was still asleep, I remember at 5 this morning, when I woke up the first time because of my heavy heart, I said to myself – I would ask him to marry me. I, who never once thought of marriage the last ten years. I would marry him in white, in purple, in pastel, in whatever color. I would marry him because people say that the marriage even though useless and is just a piece of paper, is supposed to be the ultimate proof of love. So if people say that, I would do it. If I could do anything to prove my love to him, I would do it. Because I just know that it would be the right thing to do. For me to sleep the whole night without waking up in the middle of it, for that heart to be less heavy, I need to sleep next to him. He would bear that love in my bed, helping me to take away the weigh of my heart. For me to hear the melody of that flute in my head again, I need to hold his hands while falling asleep.

My love is calm yet determined.

Yesterday I could live without him.

This morning the idea is an utopia.

*** Sculpture “Mujer meditando” (Woman on meditation) by José Kuri Brena

And you are home…

Every evening I get back home quite late, after a long day, either after yoga or German class, I always cook something simple. I am not fond of eating cold food in the evening. It takes a bit more time but I feel relaxed when I cook. There is a kind of ritual, I always have dinner with a green tea, in front of the TV. I lost the habit of sitting at a table and eating ever since I have not been in couple anymore. Eating in front of the TV is not healthy apparently but it gives the feeling of having someone talking to you during the meal, or having someone in the apartment. I think people living alone probably have this same habit as me.

But there is always a moment once I finished my dinner, and once the episode of a TV show ended, that suddenly I felt a strong need to talk someone. To share my day, to talk about easy things, about the weather, about anything. But then I also realized that I did not just want to talk to anyone. It became crystal clear that I wanted to talk to HIM. And only him. It’s not just talk, it’s talking and looking in his eyes, those deep green grey eyes. These unreasonable needs were there almost every evening during this winter, while he was away. I could not do anything against it. I could pick up the phone and just call a close friend, if I need to talk. My verbal desire, my need of communication to the world is tightly linked to him. Usually at that moment, I hit the button “play” for another episode of TV show, feeling a bit frustrated, of course.

Yesterday, I went through the same ritual. The only difference was that at that precise moment when I felt the need to talk, I did talk with my voice. And not only in my head. I talked, I told stories, I shared my day. I looked into those green eyes. Because he was there. In flesh and bones. And he listened. I could not stop talking, I had four months of things which had happened in my life to tell him. He listened and swallowed my words. I talked and fell into the depth of his eyes. Sometimes I wanted to say “I love you” in between sentences and words, but I was still a bit intimidated. Sometimes I touched his hands, squeezed his arms, gave him a long kiss on his cheek. I hardly believed he was real. Let alone that he was back.

I put on a Bach concerto, came closer to him, stopped all the words, let him kiss me and undress me. Was I on earth? Was I in heaven? Death, immortality, do I want to live forever for that moment? Or do I want to die right away after that kiss, that touch? I could say “yes” to all these questions.

All I know is I love Bach and I love him. And yesterday evening was one of a kind.