24 hours in Milan or the G. experience – Part three: the dinner

Yesterday evening you accepted a dinner date. Last Saturday you were in Milan with him. At the exact same time, a week ago, you were falling in love with him. How come you accepted this dinner date.

You have no choice. Either you stop living and keep on waiting for him or you keep on loving him, without waiting and keep on living your life. The long-distance between you and him. The Covid situation with all borders locked down one week after another. His work. Your work. His free-spirit. Your free-spirit.

The date was not bad. It was just meaningless for you. There was nothing to compare to last Saturday when you were with him in Milan. He was so happy you picked the right Osteria in the Old Town, small, authentic. You sat outside. The weather was still perfect for being outside. He ordered plenty of food. He was like a kid. He held your hands during the whole dinner. He ate with one hand so he could hold your hand with the other. He asked you about your childhood, told you about his. He asked you about your dreams, your goals. He told you about his dreams, if he still had some. He said he felt lonely travelling around for work. He said he did not have a social life and did not really care. He said he have you when he arrives each time in the city where you live. He ordered three desserts. He made you try the mousse au chocolat and the tiramisu. He said you could eat whatever you want you have a perfect body.

His eyes were smiling with you. He always knows exactly how to make you melt. But he does not play with it and plan it. It is just the way he is. He looked at you so intensely at dinner that sometimes you could not bear his gaze. Sometimes you had to look somewhere else.

After dinner, you walked around the Old Town. Your hands were in his. He stopped at almost every corner of the street to kiss you. His lips were delicious. There was still a bit the taste of red wine. You let your head on his shoulder while walking. You remember he told you once that the people he loves are invited to join him in his modest journey of life. That evening you were certainly part of these people.

To love him is to accept the absence, to accept the ups, to accept the downs. To accept intense emotions and pain when he is away. But what could you do else ?

Yesterday you went on a dinner date to survive. On the way home you promised yourself not to survive that way again. Your heart is too small and you only have space for him. Even though he is more often absent than present. But a thousand dates like yesterday would never equal one dinner with him.

You go home. Your head and heart full of him. Your decision: loving him, not waiting for him, keep on living your life, but not going on dates anymore. Your heart tells you so.

The past

Happiness is an art. I have been looking for happiness for the last 14 months. The more I look, the less I find. I have chosen a wrong path and since then living happily has become utopic.

I have been in couple for 14 months and as far as I can remember I was happier alone. It is a sad thing to say and probably I can hear people around me protesting. I believe I am happier alone. Either it is a true fact and I am just made to be alone or either I have chosen a wrong partner and my life in couple is not what I have expected.

Either way I am far from reaching happiness or the nirvana. I don’t know if I don’t want to be in couple or if I have been in a wrong relationship which led me to think that I am a person who could totally be alone, and die alone (which is even more than a truth).

The first wrong decision was to believe in the past. I was with my first boyfriend for 8 years when I was 16. I left him and we have lost contact for 20 years almost. Part of this was because he was angry at me for leaving him. Then for some reason we got back together after all these years. I have always believed that my past with him and my love for him were the most beautiful thing I had and leaving him was a biggest mistake of my life. When the opportunity showed up and pushed us back together I did not hesitate a second. It was 14 months ago. I have made space for this relationship and put all my soul into it.

The past was far past and the present is pain. The pain is so huge that I have lost all my faith, all my energy on the way to find happiness. I used to be joyful and I LOVE LIFE. I am now reduced to someone most of the time sad and weak. I hang on to the past to understand the difficulties of the present. I have nothing to hang on to except the past. The past of a story when I was 16. Destiny sucks and one thing I have learned from this story is that people do not change. Twenty years after the separation I have found the same person. The reasons that made me leave him twenty years ago could be the same for today. Nothing has changed except we are older and we are even more difficult and less tolerant.

I have been thinking for months about how one decision could jeopardize a whole life. I could walk away for the second time but for some reason I could not. Instead I stay and get sick and am sad. Someone once told me to forget the past, rectify the present so that my future can be better. I think I can’t just accept the second failure with the same person. There were too many mistakes in this decision. The thought of this person was my soulmate. The thought that this love story when we was teen-age was the best story. Now I can only blame myself for believing in the past. I have put aside the present at that moment to honor the past.

My sentimental life seems to go from one mistake to another. If happiness is the result of good decisions in your love life, then I would have to surrender, I would never be happy. Ever again.

When I was back at the gym last week and waiting for this dear friend, I realized that I had no choice to avoid pain. Could I make this past with “him” present again and put the present of the other past behind ? When I came home last week after seeing my dear friend at the gym I got back to my blog. 14 months were put on hold to live the other past. Worse thing in all of this is that I don’t even know what the word “soulmate” means. The one I believe was my soulmate only makes me suffer and the one who was unable to give me more than a conceptual love understands me more than anyone else.

Which past to choose ?

Morning scream in music


A midnight blue, day and night
I’ve been missing you
I’ve been thinkin’ about you, baby
Almost makes me crazy
Come and live with me

Times, nothing’s right, if you ain’t here
I’ll give all that I have just to keep you near
I wrote you a letter, I tried to make it clear
That you just don’t believe that I’m sincere
I’ve been thinking about you, baby

Times, nothing’s right, if you ain’t here
I’ll give all that I have just to keep you near

I’ve been thinkin’ about you, baby
I want you to live with me

This morning I woke up. Definitely calmer than yesterday. Or at least it was the first impression. As soon as my eyes got the first light of the day from a tiny slit of the shutter, an acute pain squeezed my chest but short, quick pain. I projected myself to the future. Something I have never done for months now. Thinking of the future. The thought of the future. Future that meant to be in five week time. When he will be leaving again. His date of departure has not yet been set. But its certainty is undeniable.

I put on this song of Massive Attack. I just discovered it a few days ago. The song penetrated my skin, soaked into my bones. I felt cold. The voice was groaning and moved me deep. Maybe it was circumstantial but each word was cutting me into pieces. “A midnight blue, day and night I’ve been missing you I’ve been thinkin’ about you, baby Almost makes me crazy Come and live with me Times, nothing’s right, if you ain’t here I’ll give all that I have just to keep you near I want you to live with me “.  I could groan in a same hoarse voice mixed with sobs and tears and nobody could distinguish the sadness of the song or that of my soul.

I felt another round of punches. I squeezed tight my pillow, put it over my stomach and wrapped myself, smothered under the blanket. Acute pain, longer, more insistent. He will go away soon. I stayed in the fetus position, my way to protect myself from suffering. For a long while. I could hear the ticking sound of the alarm clock. Like a count-down. Each ticking seemed to count the days left before he is gone again. Each regular ticking sound mixed with the deep regular moaning sound of the song in perfect harmony, sentencing the end of my happiness. For a short while, I had the feeling that I had flirted with a slow death. The feeling of losing him again. Seeing him going away. Again. Seeing him going in another direction, in another part of the world. In this big world we had crossed paths for a second. Just for a second. I heard myself screaming. I screamed the unfairness of life. Of love. Of everything.

The scream lasted with the last note of the song. I disappeared in my large bed. No more sound suddenly. The room fell into silence. But I could still hear my love for him.

I measure the purest form of love

I can pretend whatever

I can ignore us

I can neglect you

I can put on my wings

And fly away from you

I can forget to wait for you

I can pretend a lot of things

My weakness is still there

When your pain hurts me

More than my own

When bad news from your side

Give me headaches



Thousand needles pinch me

I can pretend a lot of things

Not the sadness

That you don’t share

But I can feel

I can forget us

I can be indifferent

I hate to know

You are not well

You are worried

I measure the purest form of love

Feeling your pain

From far

In few words

Most of the time silence

Waiting for you to heal

Waiting for your darkness to disappear

Pretending I am stronger than you

I measure the purest form of love

Being you in your sadness

Waiting for ours to go away

You have to do it yourself

You are lost

The world is rude to you

Love forgets you

No aim

No shelter

Only your adventurous soul survives

You are tired

Come back to me with no hope

You close your eyes

Dream of us

In another world

In this one

Nothing works

One moment of peace you ask for

Lie on the sand with me

Drink to the horizon

By me you can stay

As long as you want

My love has left you

I protect you

The other ways

But I can’t build a new world for you

Lie on the sand with me

And breathe

Let your pain go away

By me you can stay

And cry

But do it for yourself

Because I can’t do it for you

I protect you

With my old love

But I can’t build a new world for you

Your pain

I haven’t slept very well the last weekNEIGE

Snow keeps falling down days and nights

Too quiet nights

Feel like white velvet

Being one with the snow

You have pain

Your pain became mine

The moment I knew it

Being one with it

Walking through this path between

The cold, the snow, my insomnia, your pain

Love the cold

Love the snow

Insomnia does not matter

Your pain bleeds me







Poetry and Penitence

I attended today a panel on poetry reflecting on incarceration.

From inside the wall, convicts write poems to breathe, they write for oxygen. Some are twenty years old and had been sentencing for life or more than twenty years. Some will never get out. Here are the words of Ben, James and others. From outside the wall, I share their struggles and suffering. The followings are their words. I share them in freedom and hope. I feel like a duty to do so.

Regrets from James:

Hopes dwindle, dreams fade

Attitudes flare,

Pain inflicted, no one listens

Just icy stares.

No mercy, no forgiveness

No second chance, 

Walks alone, dials but no one’s home

A prisoner’s stance

If Shoes Can Feel Shame from Ben:

Often when we feel shame, up is the last place we want to look. My shoulders, they slump, tilting my head and my gaze locking on my shoes. I don’t know if a pair of shoes can feel shame, if so mine have bore the brunt of it. I fear one day I will be a hunchback…

Vulnerability from Ben:

My heart is not bitter

In fact it’s broken

But I know what it means to be a man

Gentleness, integrity and love

Quiet strength, a father a husband a friend

These things make me a man

And I am no longer afraid

I am just a human being

What can I say?

What do you think?

Even though I live in my dreams, made up by my fantasies

Even though I extract myself from past and future to give you my present

Even though I follow and understand your reasoning and your absence

I am still a human being who breathes better with love

What can I say?

What do you think?

Of course I will be hurt

I bet it is just a matter of time

So the question is why I am still here

I am just a human being who breathes better in love

The back pain

The back pain gets worse. I acknowledge the pain and don’t want to think about it anymore. I still cannot sit. So again this morning I went for a long walk. I walked uphill and just a few minutes away from my home, all these views and landscapes offered themselves to me. I would never walk that much if I did not have that back pain. So finally in every bad thing there are always some good things coming up.

The only thing with pain is it absorbs somehow all my energy. I could not think of him today. I took me long to get out of bed without feeling like torn apart inside of my back, like each nerve was broken one by one. I remembered having dreamt of him. Images were blurred. No continued story in the story. He was skinny in the dream. It was brief. When I was awake, I did not know if the pain came from the dream or from the back. But after a second, I knew that it was from my back. I had ordered myself  the end of suffering a while ago. But the dream with him still had its effect. I was impervious to emotional pain but I am not indifferent to memories.

During the walk, for a moment I stopped in front of this pond, trying to think of him. Not quite I could succeed. The back pain was stronger. 

On the way back, I took the picture of this red flower posed on someone’s fence. It was for him. I like the bright red color. Our memories are vivid. But probably in a softer color. Maybe in an old rose pink, the one of a wilted flower. 

My own movie

“No matter what they wish for, no matter how far they go, people can never be anything but themselves. That’s all.” (Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman – Haruki Murakami)

Sunday morning

A film festival ends today in my city

Slowly awakening

From some hectic days

Movies, dreams, fiction, reality

Passion, love, images, music

“Savages, Broken, The Words, Songs of Silence”

New movies, old movies

I emerge slowly

From my own movie

Passion, love, music, pain

A “déjà-vu”

My head hurts

My rational thoughts caress my heart

The city is still calm

And so am I

My own movie in black and white

Blending into the grey sky

Resonating the old pain all over again