“shall I write it in a letter? a song I can’t get out…Can I take it to a morning, Where the fields are painted gold …And the trees are filled with memories, Of the feelings never told?”
You see, I bought this book of Maria Arpa, Meditation on Togetherness, The heart or mindful relationships.
It is all about Love, isn’t it? Everyone seems to be hungry for love, even those ones who would never admit it.
I am writing this from a large perfectly green sofa in BFI. One of my most favourite places in London.
I stop for a second and look around me. Some of us are staring at our laptop screens, others read a book and as usual, at that dark romantically quiet corner a man and a woman are loosing themselves into each other’s hug. That would have been one of those moments that I would have lowered my eyes thinking of how much I’ve been missing you. Strangely that is not the case. To my left, a couple of about 70 years old is laughing and touching each other’s faces as if they are meeting for the first time, like recognising each other. That is what I miss. The warmth of intimacy that needs no words to be expressed, no gestures to be validated, no efforts to be appreciated. It comes from within. In someway, that picture makes me miss you. Well not you, but everything we shared. Funny cause I am not talking about a man from the past, I am talking about what I am looking for. I miss sharing silence, creating memories of confessions made by two.
July 2011, late evening, I saw one of his photographs and I was hooked, without even realising it. Two months later he invited me to Paris and we kissed for the first time. Awkward? Not at all. It felt as if we knew each other already, we were simply waiting to meet each other again. I remember looking at him and being so sure that he was the one. I only had to live the moment. Well that was the plan in the beginning, expectations grew inside of us and we lost each other. I feel we were only humans, surrendering ourselves to feelings and passion and desire and wishes and dreams. We travelled a lot in London and Athens, exchanging tears of separation in airport, writing love letters, hundreds of them, waking up early in the morning just to get his kiss before leaving, looking at the sun rays making their way on our empty bed. Absence and presence were like bodies tied up on each other so hard that you wouldn’t realise when the I miss you would lead to I am so happy to touch you again.
We got a house together in North East of Athens. I still love that house, I will never forget my heart beat when I closed the door for the last time before moving to London. How is it possible to flash all your memories in seconds of the closing door? I remembered him opening up his heart to me, crying, laughing, becoming one physically and mentally. Well we always thought we were one. Even a few days ago, we admitted that we still belong to each other. Lovers. The most dangerous species of dreamers. They forget about reality cause reality kills their eternity. Or not? Is this an undying bond or just two people’s strongest inner desire for oneness? If that is the case, why do lovers live apart? I have come into terms with his weakness and his decision to lie to himself. I can tell now I cannot save that man from his destiny. Once he told me “You are my destiny, my path is tough but to you is where I am aiming to come”. Lovers. Funny how easily they say things that surpass their strength. When he left, I felt as if he torn my skin apart, for my skin was glued with his. We were one, remember. That pain, that exquisite pain, that makes you feel so mortal. So fragile, so present to what is happening. You see lovers have this skill of floating above the city. They kiss and time pauses. They hear nothing, they see nothing. It seems as if we kissed in every single corner of this city, perhaps that is why he claims he feels as if he sees me everywhere around him. Lovers, funny how they think they can survive with people they they never prisoned in their hearts. I remember telling him one night, Heart expands with every breath you take, you love and that is limitless. He did not listen of course. He did not listen but now he sees. Me. Or my reflections. Absence is the strongest drug against denial. You may deny things have set you and your lover apart, but absence is cruel and honest.
He got terrified by the fact that we still communicate in a surreal almost fairy tale way. He is in pain, I cry. I wake up late at night, he wakes up too. Thoughts and memories fly over South London sky and meet each other. So poetic. Or is it the only way to keep past alive? Are we lost in the past? Are we faking the present? How come every time we touch others, we see each other in some imaginary unconscious place where mind plays games and heart feels alive all over again.
I cried a lot. I embraced anger. I learned how pain feels like. Thanks to you. And that I cannot forget.
So, yes, I am longing for the new one. The new plus one. You said you’re taking the risk to make me yours again. I don’t want that. I want someone to make this ours. Someone to dare to expose himself to me and to stare at my exposed figure and heart. No safety net. No boundaries. That is what I miss.