Time Traveller. Part 1. The Lighthouse.

- You know, sometimes I just feel I don’t belong in here. And it’s more than just some times.

- Are you a time traveller?

He was smiling when he asked.

- Don’t you feel sometimes you’re out of time and out of place?

He smiled again, in his funny way, as if knowing more than what he was telling his friend.

- I do.

- Then you know how I feel… It’s just so…

This time he was thoughtful as if something more serious came to his mind.

- You have no idea how much I understand…

***

- We shouldn’t be here. If someone sees us…

- Shush! Nobody will. We are safe. It’s long past midnight.

- What if the police shows up?

- We will be quick. I just want to make sure it’s really here. 

- How would we know?

- I will know, believe me…

- OK.

- It should be around here somewhere, but it is so trivial, no one would ever notice it. Or if they do, they would never have an idea of what it really is. There it is. I knew it!

- It’s just a cache!

- That is what it could look like, but it’s more than that. It’s not a box. See?

- What are we going to do?

- Nothing. It’s safer if it is kept here, the way it is.

- Do you think there are more?

- Portals?

- Travellers?

He looked at the young man wearing glasses, in silence. His face was in darkness, but his breathing could be heard from a distance. And it had changed a bit.

- Let’s get out of here now. It will be morning soon.

- I hear footsteps.

- Quick! Do some stretching. Pretend we are exercising.

The sound of the steps became louder. Someone was running on the pathway to the jetty and getting closer to where they were.

The man wearing glasses turned around and stretched his leg on the lower rail, going slowly with his hands to his feet, as if stretching arms, back and legs. His mate was holding his foot with his hands, standing in one leg only.

They could not really see inside the dark hooded sweatshirt, if the newcomer was young or old, but by the way he moved, they could say the runner was a young strong man. He passed along the lane and ran around the lighthouse, coming back to the jetty and out of the pathway, into the street boardwalk and disappeared in the darkness again. The sound of his running steps faded in the distance.

The two men looked at each other in relief.

- That was close.

- It was not. Stop being so scared of everything. Let’s go back. We’ve had enough.

They left quickly to where the Jeep was parked, by the walkway and got into it, not before looking around.

They did not see the man wearing a dark hooded sweatshirt standing on the other side of the parking lot, hiding in the dark.

As soon as the car left, he crossed the parking area and went back to the jetty, running…

***

They got home in some minutes, as there was no traffic at that time in the morning. They still had some things to discuss.

- What the fuck was that? A portal?

- Yes. You know very well.

The man wearing glasses was feeling totally confused, as he knew those things were hard to understand and to believe in.

His friend seemed to be more comfortable with the existence of a portal, although since they had left the lighthouse earlier on, he seemed to be very absent-minded, as if he was in another world or era.

- Do you think we should…?

- I guess so.

- When?

- The sooner the best. Pack some things. We might not be back today.

***

When the sun was still rising, they were already on the road to the north. The A28 motorway was quiet, but soon it would be busy, either because of the traffic to the industrial areas or the people going to the beaches.

- A portal? It’s not possible! We had the last one completely destroyed!

- I know. But everything points to a new one and we had it located.

- How can that be possible? Unless… wait… no, no, no… That is unlikely…

- What? Wait a minute. Are you implying that they’ve come back here?

- What are you two talking about? You make no sense at all.

- But why here and why now? What’s in here now that could possibly be of some interest for them?

- I have no idea. If we had any indication of what happened when…

They looked at the man wearing glasses.

- Oblivion…

- Ok. Stop right here and now. I want to know everything about the Oblivion incident… It’s more than time. Don’t try to fool me any further, please!

The two men looked at the one wearing glasses. He was pale.

- OK. Sit down now. I’ll bring you some water. Relax a bit, will you?

- I don’t want to relax. This all seem to be related. Tell me what happened… Now!

- OK, but sit down, please. Drink the water. I’ll explain… or I will try to, anyway…

***

Watercolor Study (Portrait) - Estudo em Aguarela (Retrato)

O Menino no Sótão

Embora ainda fosse dia, havia apenas uma fraca luz vindo de um ponto no sótão, como percebi, de pé, junto à base da escada. Eu nunca havia tido autorização para subir aqueles degraus e ir lá em cima… nem acompanhado, muito menos por conta própria...

Agora, já não precisava mais da permissão de ninguém. Eu tinha que encarar aquela situação e queria fazê-lo… o quanto antes…

A escada, de dois lances, era de madeira escura e sem qualquer polimento. Os velhos degraus, tão pouco utilizados nos últimos tempos, rangeram, como se a reclamar, quando pisei neles. Murmurei, para mim mesmo:

- Não olhe para trás...

O sótão não estava tão desorganizado quanto eu pensei que estaria. Estava empoeirado, mas não sujo. Eu mal notei que havia uma pequena janela quadrada, voltada para o sul. A luz do final da tarde filtrava-se através do vidro empoeirado. Algumas caixas e um velho triciclo de metal, quebrado, com um assento de madeira gasto e manchado, estavam no meio do caminho. Vi uma cadeira de balanço junto à parede oposta à janela. Alguns móveis velhos estavam empilhados num canto mal iluminado. Em cima deles havia uma caixa de madeira marrom-escura com enfeites de pinos de metal, de cabeças arredondadas, dispostos ao longo da periferia da tampa.

Quando eu olhei, ele estava sentado no chão, no outro extremo, brincando com alguns minúsculos carros de brinquedo, quase no escuro. A maioria daqueles carrinhos já não tinha mais rodas. Ele estava com os pés descalços, vestindo um velho pijama de algodão estampado. Não olhou diretamente para mim, no início, como se não tivesse notado minha presença. Seu cabelo encaracolado era castanho claro, quase loiro, cortado bem curto. A boca, bem proporcionada, de um tom carmesim, mostrava dois pequenos pontos vermelhos, mais escuros, claramente evidentes, no centro do lábio inferior. Aqueles olhos castanho-esverdeados, muito curiosos e um tanto tristes, me notaram, finalmente.

Ele sorriu, timidamente, quando cheguei mais perto.

- Estás bem?

Ele balançou a cabeça, afirmativamente.

- Posso sentar aí, ao teu lado?

- Pode, mas vais sujar as roupas.

- Não tem importância.

- OK, então. É uma pena. Meus carrinhos estão todos quebrados.

Sentei-me ao lado dele e examinei um daqueles brinquedos que estavam no chão. Senti vontade de chorar e ele percebeu, mas me recuperei rápido o suficiente.

- Quantos anos tu tens?

- Cinco.

- O que estás fazendo aqui em cima, sozinho?

- Gosto de brincar sozinho e, além disso, estava esperando por ti. Podes brincar um pouquinho comigo?

- Sim. Pelo tempo que quiseres.

Ele abriu um sorriso largo e satisfeito, mostrando seus pequenos dentes, bem feitinhos. Pareceu-me ser um miúdo ‘duro na queda’.

- Tu gostas da cadeira de balanço?

- Sim, mas toma cuidado. Está quebrada. Vai desmontar-se toda.

Eu verifiquei e notei que as peças não estavam bem encaixadas, nos lugares certos. Devia ter sido abandonada e esquecida ali em cima. Tentei o meu melhor para reparar e, finalmente, sentei-me nela. O encosto e o assento, de palha trançada, fizeram um ruído característico, provavelmente devido à falta de uso. Ainda era uma cadeira bem forte, pelo que percebi.

- Queres sentar aqui comigo?

Ele veio mais para perto e eu o levantei do chão e sentei-o na minha perna esquerda. Ele sorriu e deitou a cabeça no meu peito, ainda entretido com um de seus carrinhos de brinquedo.

O som monótono e suave da velha cadeira, a balançar, e meus braços em torno de seu minúsculo corpo, eram como um convite para adormecer. Ele fechou os olhos. Eu podia sentir que ele relaxava e deixou o brinquedo cair da sua mãozinha, no meu colo. Parecia estar confortável e sentindo-se protegido e amado. Eu o abracei mais firmemente e beijei suavemente o topo de sua cabeça.

Meus olhos encheram-se de lágrimas. Meu coração estava transbordando.

Levantei-me em silêncio e desci, cuidadosamente, com ele nos braços e deitei-o em uma cama de solteiro, de colchão duro de palha, que havia no quarto abaixo da escada. Sentei-me na beirada de madeira escura, tentando não perturbar seu sono tranquilo. Seu rosto estava muito sereno. Acariciei seu cabelo fino e macio. Ele respirou fundo, descontraído, quase sorrindo, como se estivesse tendo um sonho bom.

Levantei-me e saí do quarto, deixando o menino em sua cama. Votei-me e olhei para ele, da porta.

Ele, agora, sorria. Seu sorriso era espontâneo e tranquilo, naquele rostinho inocente, em seu sonho feliz... Ele era, na verdade, um menino bem bonito. Deduzi que seria um belo homem, no futuro.

Respirei fundo e abri os olhos. Aquela minha jornada, ao passado, acabava ali. Senti uma satisfação enorme por haver conseguido fazê-la, daquele jeito.

***

The Boy in the Attic

Although it was still day, there was only a faint light coming from a point in the attic and seen from the base of the staircase. I had not been allowed to climb those steps up there ever before.

I did not need permission anymore, from anyone, anyway. I had to face it and I wanted to do it.

The two flight of stairs were dark and unpolished. The old unused wooden treads and risers creaked when I stepped on them. I mumbled.

- Don’t look back...

The attic was not as messy as I thought it would be. It was dusty, but not dirty. I hardly noticed there was a small square window, facing the south. Light was being filtered through its dusty glass. Some boxes and an old broken metal tricycle with a stained wooden seat were on the way. I saw a rocking chair by the wall opposite to the window. Old furniture were piled up at the poorly lightened corner end. On top of them there was a dark brown wooden box with metal pin decorations all around its lid.

He was sitting there on the floor, at the far end, playing with some tiny toy cars, almost in the dark. Most of those small cars had no wheels anymore. He was barefoot, wearing old homemade stamped cotton pyjamas. He did not look directly at me at first, as if he did not notice me at all. His curly hair was light brown, almost blond, cut very short. The lips were cherry red and the two little dark red spots on the lower lip were clearly evident. Those very curious sad-looking hazel eyes noticed me finally.

He smiled shyly when I walked closer.

- Are you ok?

He nodded affirmatively.

- Can I sit there by your side?

- You’re gonna dirt your clothes.

- I don’t care.

- Ok, then. It’s a shame. My cars are all broken.

I sat by his side and took one of those toys in my hand. I felt like crying and he noticed it, but I recovered quickly enough.

- How old are you?

- Five.

- What are you doing here on your own?

- I like playing alone and besides I was waiting for you. Will you play with me? For a while? 

- Yes. For as long as you want me to.

He opened a broad satisfied grin, showing his small well-built teeth. He looked like a tough little one.

- Do you like the rocking chair?

- Yes, but… you must be careful. It is broken. It might fall apart.

I checked it and noticed the parts were not well fixed in their right places, so I tried my best to repair and finally sat in it. The woven straw chair cringed a bit. It was still a good strong chair.

- Would you like to come here with me?

He walked up to me and I picked him up and let him sit on my left leg. He smiled and lay his head on my chest, still playing with one of his toy cars.

The slow, soft rocking sound of the old chair and my arms around his tiny body were like an invitation to fall asleep. He closed his eyes. I could feel he relaxed and his toy fell down from his hand to my lap. He seemed to be feeling comfortable and loved. I hugged him tighter and softly kissed the top of his head.

My eyes were wet. My heart was overflowing.

I quietly got up and went downstairs with him in my arms and carefully placed him in a single bed with a hard mattress there was in the room below the stairs. I sat on the dark wooden edge, trying not to disturb his peaceful sleep. His face was very serene. I stroked his soft thin hair. He took a deeper relaxed breath, almost smiling, as if contented with a dream he was having.

I got up and walked off the room, leaving the boy in his bed. I looked back at him from the door.

He was still smiling and his grin was spontaneous in his sweet happy dream… He was quite a good-looking little one. He would be a handsome man in the future.

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. My journey to the past was over… I was happy I made it.

***

Home again... Finally...

Home... finally...

Girl (Watercolour Study)

As suggested by a friend: this is like the rebirth of Galatea: the moment she is given life.

Beacons (Faróis)

Your eyes

Are like beacons

Standing tall

By the shore,

Signalling brightly

The direction I should follow

And come to,

Finally,

Haven my tired soul.

***

(Teus olhos

São como os fachos

Dos imponentes faróis

Sinalizando, brilhantes,

Na costa,

A direção que devo seguir

Para,

Finalmente,

Aportar minha alma cansada.)

Watercolor Study (The Jack of Spades)

Monocromia II (Monochrome)

Como uma Andorinha (Like a Swallow)

Holding On (Me aguentando...)

I find my strength in the generous and detached contemplation of the ocean and sky...

(É na contemplação generosa e desapegada do oceano e do céu que eu encontro minhas forças...)

Dança Lenta

Uma dança lenta, com o Valete de Espadas, não estava, definitivamente, no cardápio. Eu decidi observá-lo de uma distância segura, para não ser queimado pelo fogo dele... ou por aquele que começou a arder, lentamente, no meu peito, quando o vi pela primeira vez.

Lá estava ele, de pé, por trás do pequeno grupo de convidados, olhando casualmente para mim. Eu cumprimentei a todos e caminhei até ele, com um sorriso no rosto e a mão estendida para um aperto firme. Olhei em seus olhos azul-esverdeados, por um breve momento, e me apresentei. Ele fez o mesmo.

Eu quase podia ouvir meus próprios pensamentos gritando, na minha cabeça e, até, tive medo de que ele notasse as evidências, tão claras nos meus olhos, ou conseguisse ler minha mente, de alguma forma.

Eu me perguntei se ele, algum dia, teria ciência do efeito que teve sobre mim, naquele exato momento. Pouco sabia eu do que passava em sua mente, quando ele me sorriu daquele jeito.

"Por favor, goste de mim".

Aquela primeira impressão fora bastante surpreendente, a meu ver.

***

- É bom estar aqui, assim. Me sinto tão em casa.

Ele me abraçou mais forte. Tinha minha cabeça recostada em seu peito e seus braços envolviam-me a parte superior do corpo. Suas pernas musculosas estavam enroscadas nas minhas, como se ele estivesse me segurando para que eu não caísse do estreito sofá. Estávamos ouvindo algumas das minhas músicas favoritas. A maioria delas ele estava, apenas, começando a conhecer...

“You say you had your heart broken
 What a stupid little thing to do…

 Make no mistake
 I'll do whatever it takes
 To get over these walls
 High up in the atmosphere
 If I could catapult my heart
…To where you are” …*
(*Catapult, by Jack Savoretti)

Quando a música terminou, ele se levantou e eu também. Tocou meu rosto, tão levemente, com as duas mãos, que senti como se fossem plumas caindo suavemente na minha pele nua.

Sorri, meio sem jeito. Ele me beijou e me abraçou, firmemente. Em seus braços, sentia uma proteção infinita e aquele foi um dos melhores sentimentos que tive na vida.

Eu dançava, lentamente, com o Valete de Espadas e gostava daquilo, com todo o meu corpo e alma. Tive a sensação de que ele sabia, exatamente, o que estava fazendo e isso me deixava extremamente feliz.

A sala estava quieta, as luzes baixas, mas continuamos dançando as músicas, que continuavam a tocar, silenciosamente, em nossas cabeças, por uma banda invisível... por um bom tempo... Senti o calor suave de nossas peles nuas, uma contra a outra… nossos corações a bater no mesmo ritmo.

Ele, então, pegou minha mão na sua e me conduziu...

***

Minha atenção estava totalmente voltada para como suas mãos pálidas tocavam minha pele, viajando pelo meu corpo, de maneira muito leve e calorosa.

- Adoro tuas mãos e o jeito que tu me tocas. És tão carinhoso.

- Adoro tocar em ti. Tua pele é tão macia.

- E nunca pensei que amaria alguém desse jeito...

- Então teu coração tem sido negligenciado, meu amor...

Houve uma dor repentina no meu peito. Eu me virei. Não conseguia me controlar. Fechei os olhos e deixei minhas lágrimas correrem, silenciosamente, quentes e livres. E elas queimavam, como lava. Meu corpo estremeceu um pouco.

Ele colocou os braços à minha volta e me puxou para perto dele. Seu queixo repousava no meu pescoço. Eu senti que ele cheirava meus cabelos. Senti seu corpo aquecendo o meu, enquanto soluçava, incontrolavelmente, em seu abraço forte.

***

Era uma tarde ensolarada de sábado. Fui dar um passeio na praia e sentei-me em silêncio, olhando o mar. Uma brisa fresca soprou contra meu rosto e cabelo. O céu estava tão azul que me fez lembrar dele e de seus olhos.

Perdi-me a olhar um ponto inexistente, ao longe. Minha mente vagueou no passado. Eu estremeci.

- Quanto tempo faz?

Eu me virei. Além de algumas gaivotas barulhentas, voando acima, não havia ninguém à vista. Eu pensei que minha imaginação estivesse brincando comigo.

- Há quanto tempo? Tu lembras?

Eu decidi responder em voz alta.

- Sabes muito bem há quanto tempo.

Lembrei-me do dia em que nos conhecemos, há longos anos no passado, desde o momento em que as portas deslizantes se abriram e vi seu sorriso acolhedor e o coração nas mãos, até o flagrante beijo de despedida que ele me deu, antes que eu entrasse na área restrita do aeroporto, a caminho de casa.

- Estou tão feliz que tua dor se tenha ido embora.

Não respondi, apenas me levantei e saí silenciosamente.

Lágrimas quentes insistiram em desfocar minha visão, enquanto o vento soprava mais frio, desta vez por todo o meu corpo...

***

Long-lasting Dance

A long-lasting dance with the Jack of Spades was definitely not on the menu. I chose watching him from a safe distance, so I was not harmed by his fire… or the one that started slowly burning in my chest when I first set eyes on him.

There he was, standing tall on the background of the group, looking casually at me, who greeted everyone else and walked on to him, with a smile on my face and the hand ready for a handshake. I looked into his blue-greenish eyes for the longest briefest moment and introduced myself. He did the same.

I could almost hear my own thoughts shouting out loud in my head and I was afraid he would notice it in my eyes or could read my mind somehow.

I wondered if he would ever be aware of the effect he had on me. Little I knew of what was happening in his mind, when he smiled that way of his.

‘Please like me’.

That was quite an astounding first impression.

***

- It’s so good to be here. It feels like home.

He hugged me tighter. My head was on his chest and his arms were encircling my upper body. His strong muscled legs were all around mine, as if holding me so I would not fall away from him or from the sofa. We were listening to a bunch of my favourite songs, most of them he was just getting to know…

“You say you had your heart broken
 What a stupid little thing to do…

 Make no mistake
 I'll do whatever it takes
 To get over these walls
 High up in the atmosphere
 If I could catapult my heart
… To where you are”…*
(*Catapult, by Jack Savoretti)

When the song was over, he got up and so did I. He touched my face so lightly with both hands, I felt like feathers falling softly on my bare skin.

I smiled shyly. He kissed me and held me tight. I felt I was so small and, at the same time, totally protected by him and that was one of the best feelings I had in my lifetime.

I was slow dancing with the Jack of Spades and I was enjoying it with all my body and soul. I had the feeling he knew exactly what he was doing and that made me so happy.

The living room was quiet, the lights were low, but we kept on dancing to the songs playing silently in our heads, by an invisible band… for quite a while… feeling the soothing heat of our bare skins one against the other, our hearts at the same pace.

He, then, took my hand in his own and led me...

***

My attention was totally directed to how his pale hands were touching my skin, traveling along my body, very lightly and so warmly.

- I love your hands and the way you touch me. You’re such an affectionate man.

- I love touching you. Your skin is so soft.

- And I’ve never thought I would love someone the way I love you now.

- You have been neglected, my love…

There was a sudden pain in my chest. I turned around. I could not control myself. I got so emotional, I just closed my eyes and let my tears run silently warm and freely. And they were burning hot. My body shuddered a little.

He put his arms around me and held me. His chin was resting on my neck. I could feel he smelled my hair. I felt his body warming mine up, while I sobbed uncontrollably in his strong embrace.

***

It was a sunny Saturday afternoon. I had a walk by the seashore and sat quietly looking at the sea. A fresh breeze blew through my face and hair. The sky was so blue, it reminded me of him and his eyes.

My own eyes wandered away in the distance, and so did my mind, to the past. I shivered.

- How long ago was it?

I turned around. Besides some noisy seagulls flying above, there was no one at sight. I thought my imagination was playing games with me.

- How long ago? Do you remember?

I decided to speak out loud.

- You know very well how long ago.

I recalled the day we’d met, long years in the past, from the moment the sliding doors opened and I saw his sweet and welcoming smile, with the heart in his hands, to the blatant goodbye kiss he gave me, before I walked into the airport restricted area, on my way back home.

- I’m so glad your pain has gone away.

I did not respond, just got up and walked off, silently.

Warm tears insisted to blur my vision, while the wind blew colder, this time all through my body…

***

Watercolour Study

Soothing

And today,

If I could only

Make a wish,

I would have only one:

To be quiet

In your arms,

Cuddled, tightly,

By your loving embrace,

And hearing you,

Whisper in my ear

That everything

Is going to be alright…

(E, se hoje,

Eu pudesse
Fazer
Um desejo somente,
Este seria:
Estar em teus braços,
Quieto
E sendo cingido
Por um abraço apertado
E te ouvir
Sussurrar,
Em meu ouvido,
Que tudo,
Tudo mesmo,
Vai ficar bem...)

Monocromia

Immensity

Present

And, when I think

Of you,

The past rests

In a peace

I’ve never felt

Before,

The future smiles,

With its open arms

And the present…

Ah! The present holds

My hands

So tightly

And looks into my gaze,

With those bright

Blue-greenish eyes,

Telling me

Everything is alright…

Already!

***

(E quando eu penso

Em ti,

O passado descansa

Numa paz

Que eu nunca senti

Antes,

O futuro sorri

Com seus braços abertos

E o presente..

Ah! O presente segura

Minhas mãos,

Tão firmemente,

E me fita o olhar

Com sua mirada

Azul-esverdeada,

Dizendo que tudo

Já está

Muito bem... )

***

Dune (Study)

Dramatic Sky (Study in Watercolour)

Estudo em Sépia

Icarus

The blue in your eyes

Is the sky

I want to fly

With the wings

I was given

By the One

Who shaped me

Into who I became today…

***

(O azul dos teus olhos

É o céu

No qual eu quero voar

Com as asas

Que me foram dadas

Por aquele

Que moldou

Quem eu,

Hoje,

Me tornei…)

***

Nocturne

The gloomy melody was coming out of the old piano as those long fingers, almost as pale as the ivory keys, stroke them with bold lust, sometimes slowly, others energetically.

He played with the same sensuality that he strategically used on skin contact: careful, light, slow and precise, as opposed to the vigour of those big, strong hands.

The music score was all scribbled in an attempt to always perfect the work that would never be finished. Was that really perfectionism, laziness or a not-so-disguised narcissism?

How sad had the autumn become before a bleak, desolate winter was unexpectedly announced.

- Will you be back?

- One day.

- When? How?

- You'll know.

- Will I?

- Surely. Why not?

He tried to grin, but his smile was always so sad. How come he'd never smiled completely, with his eyes, his mouth, his whole face? Those eyes didn't even have proper wrinkles. Had he never really smiled? Had he never been truly happy?

That seemed more than a simple 'see you soon' or 'until one day'…

- Will you be happy?

- I will.

A strange uneasiness in my heart. I wanted so much to hug that much-desired body again. I gave in to the internal conflict, which ran between right and wrong; between will, need, and longing, against what seemed ridiculous and coherent.

‘Damn the conflict. Who cares? It's now or never again!’

- Can I give you a hug?

- Sure.

How sad this hug, this anguish, that moment was... I wished I could hate him. But I couldn't.

How could someone hate those that were so much loved?

I let myself go free from that embrace. My eyes were moist. It was always so damn hard to let go.

- Don’t cry.

- No. I won't cry. I never cry, as you know.

He laughed.

- Yeah, right.

He looked at me for the last time with that sad, distant look; almost indecipherable; almost insurmountable and that was all about his decision to leave, so abruptly.

And then we parted and he departed. All those parts and pieces were all partly broken and parted, when he departed like he did. I felt like all parts of my soul were shattered and scattered around me.   

Only his song was left. Out of time. Out of tune and out of rhythm. Just like my heart…

The many notes were all left loose all over the aged and ripped-up music score so worn out by the use of those long pale fingers, which were tired of rewriting them, over and over, so many times and without being able to finish the piece, for once and for all.

There were also those words, handwritten one after the other, without metric and without rhymes in an impulsive and poor construction. A mixture of vowels and consonants, arranged to make some sense, on the yellowed paper sheets and fading, in time… in the eyes of memory…

A nostalgic, downhearted and unfinished Nocturne, left untouched on the old and now muted piano, at a strategic point in the living room.

That melancholic music still seemed to fully flood the empty spaces.

The emptiness, as a consequence, was overflowing all those blank spaces, once so full of life in my body and soul.

In my life there was only the glum, unfinished melody, still vibrating in the corners of the ambience and memory, like that pseudo-relationship, which had been suspended in an 'until now' expectation… infinitely…

***