As I listen to the heartbreaking plea of a classical guitar playing in the background, I can’t help but think of you. Life is so fascinating and mysterious, it doesn’t cease to amaze me how little we know and how much there is to explore.
I am still trying to understand why I felt so drawn to you… was it the piece of land with a house standing right in the middle, without any curtains and far from everyone’s curious eyes? was it the sound of silence and earthy scents that comes with a piece of land, with a house right in the middle, away from everyone’s curiosity? was it the possibility of endless walks, holding your hand, while the sun sets behind the mountain? was it my desire to pull you out of the darkness that’s enveloping you this newborn spring season? was it your sadness, FX? was it the fact that we are but two strangers sharing the same dream who, serendipitously, stumble upon each other to make it or break it?
Whatever it was or wasn’t, it’s worth writing about, after all, it’s not every day that I meet someone who inspires me to write.
It’s your loneliness, isn’t it? it’s that familiar feeling that was home for me for more years than I will ever be able to live without—bear with me, FX, English is not my first languate—
I was drawn to you and that is all that matters now. It was your interest in me at first but… that portrait of yours caught my attention… the fact that I couldn’t decipher the look in your eyes yet they cried for company, for warmth under the covers, for an embrace that would last all and each hour of the night and, just in case it was the last time, a bit longer, just a bit warmer, just a bit more yours.
Your pain was so intense that made me think of mine… the one I left behind somewhere between the day he left and 9 years before that early morning… and for a moment I wanted, just for once, to make it mine and surrender to the fierce force that tried to pull me in… deep within the depths of your despair, but it wasn’t mine, it was yours and you wanted to indulge in it –yes, indulgence is one of those sins that pain allows… sins that need no exculpation–
And I walked away from you and the alluring voice of pain.
There is no more Spanish guitar playing in the background… a piano makes love, for what it seems to be the last time, to a violin that cries its last goodbye to a Time Forgotten, and I can’t help but wonder… did you eat Merides for me, at least once, during your trip to Greece?
As long as your memory lingers in my mind, I will keep wondering how does your voice sound and… how do you look when you step outside a photograph.
This will be the last time I write to you, and I close this one the same way I closed the rest…
With Love,
Jo
PS… this one will stay unsent… and no matter where you are, my wish for you is love, much love and then a bit more. Have a good life, FX