Contradições (Parte 1 de 2)

- Estás acordada?

- Mmm... não... na verdade, não...

Ele riu.

- Esse sorrisinho me diz que tu estás...

Eu estava acordada, é claro, mas havia ficado com os olhos fechados, enquanto me deliciava com a maneira como ele brincava com os dedos, muito de leve, a descer pelas minhas costas, acariciando-me como se não me quisesse acordar daquele misto de sono e delírio. Eu havia despertado quando ele me beijou os ombros e pescoço, tão suavemente, que parecia o roçar de uma pluma na minha pele. Talvez ele não me quisesse, realmente, acordar... Talvez ele estivesse apenas se divertindo... Talvez estivesse se aproveitando a situação... Talvez eu também estivesse...

Eu me virei um pouco e encarei-o, sorrindo e dando boas-vindas às suas delicadas carícias. Segurei-lhe a mão na minha e beijei seus preciosos dedos.

- Bom dia, madrugador.

- Bom dia, bela adormecida.

Ele descansou a cabeça na palma da mão, olhando-me com um sorriso doce e olhos genuinamente amorosos. Pensei comigo mesma: "que maneira adorável de acordar".

Ele cingiu meu corpo com os braços e puxou-me para mais perto do peito, com as pernas entrelaçadas nas minhas. Descansei minha cabeça naqueles suaves pelos dourados e fechei os olhos, ouvindo o ritmo das batidas de seu coração, como uma suave percussão em meus ouvidos. Ele beijou o topo da minha cabeça e sussurrou.

- Gosto tanto de ti…

Gemi baixinho e aninhei-me um pouco mais em seu abraço, quase ronronando, como uma gata feliz, numa cama aconchegante e fofa. Não senti vontade de abrir os olhos novamente... e tornei a adormecer.

Quando acordei, ele não estava por perto. Ouvi o som de louça e talheres na cozinha e pensei que ele deveria ter esperado muito tempo que eu acordasse e decidiu fazer algo para comer sozinho. O cheiro de café fresco e de alguma outra coisa era extremamente convidativo.

Eu não quis que a bondade daquele homem passasse por não apreciada, então levantei-me e fui para a cozinha, a fim de fazer-lhe companhia, como se aquilo fosse a minha maior intenção.

Ele estava em pé, descalço, tão sublime e bonito, a sorrir, do alto de seus quase dois metros, com uma xícara de café puro e forte na mão. Embora não estivéssemos acostumados a gostar de fazer o café da manhã, ele estava ocupado com uma omelete que cheirava tão bem, que meu estômago reagiu imediatamente. Aquilo certamente serviria bem para uma manhã preguiçosa de sábado.

- Ei…

- Bom dia de novo, doce campo de trigo. O que estás cozinhando?

Ele sorriu para mim. Eu costumava chamá-lo de "campo de trigo" por causa da cor de seus cabelos e pelos. Ele ria disso, satisfeito com a alcunha que eu lhe havia dado. O homem loiro e bem apessoado olhou-me nos olhos e mentiu, sem corar.

- Não estou cozinhando nada de especial. Vamos sentar e comer. Estou com uma fome...

Ainda olhando para ele, eu obedeci, enquanto ele despejou o café quente na minha xícara e serviu-me uma porção daquela omelete perfeita de tomates, queijo e cogumelos. O sabor era simplesmente divino e me fazia lembrar de uma certa ocasião, em algum lugar do meu passado.

***

Já era tarde em uma manhã de um indolente domingo e eu havia decidido comer um brunch, sozinha, em um Café no centro da cidade. Sempre amei o cheiro de café preto forte e aquele estava realmente bom. Como estava morrendo de fome, eu havia decidido pelo prato do dia, para poder ter a minha refeição servida mais rápido. O gosto daquela omelete especial do Menu estava-me saciando com um prazer peculiar.

De onde eu estava, podia ver a clientela atravessando a porta da frente e sendo direcionada para as mesas, pela equipe de serviço. Sentada ao lado da janela, observando as pessoas a entrar, eu tentava não olhar para ninguém muito diretamente.

Um homem, provavelmente lá pelos seus quarenta e poucos anos, atravessou a porta e olhou em volta, tentando encontrar uma mesa vazia. O que chamou minha atenção foi a cor de seus incríveis cabelos loiros brilhantes e sua postura de caminhar. Bem mais alto do que eu, forte e bonito, aquele homem era como um guerreiro vencedor de uma batalha nas terras altas. Eu senti como se o lugar tivesse esvaziado imediatamente e todas as luzes desaparecido na minha frente, exceto pela que estava em cima da sua cabeça.

Quando o garçom o acompanhou, senti-me estranhamente interessada. Em minha mente, eu podia ouvir uma voz, dizendo sem parar e com vontade:

"Por favor, sente-se perto de mim... por favor"...

E foi o que aconteceu. Por algum motivo, ele escolheu uma mesa muito próxima da minha e sentou-se bem na minha frente. Apanhou o menu e fez seu pedido muito rapidamente.

Aquilo pareceu-me um bom sinal. Ele demonstrava ser um homem que sabia muito bem o que queria e era rápido a tomar decisões. Perguntei-me se ele faria isso com todas as outras coisas em sua vida.

Enquanto esperava, ele naturalmente olhou em volta, mostrando apenas um interesse geral nos outros clientes, que estavam acomodados na mesma sala, conversando discretamente e tomando suas refeições. Então, de repente, ele pousou aqueles lindos e radiantes olhos azuis em mim.

Surpreendentemente, o efeito foi absolutamente inesperado. Eu corei imediatamente e tentei voltar a minha atenção para o meu prato e xícara, tentando parecer natural e à vontade. Minhas mãos tremiam e a faca caiu no chão com um barulho alto demais, para os meus ouvidos. Eu sou realmente desajeitada, quando nervosa, então abaixei-me para juntar a faca e já ia chamar o garçom para me trazer uma outra, limpa, quando percebi que o rapaz já vinha a caminho, provavelmente acostumado a lidar com esse tipo de coisas, muitas vezes por dia. Eu lutava para não olhar à mesa bem na minha frente, mas meus olhos me traíram. Ele estava olhando para mim, novamente. Nossos olhos se cruzaram. Meu rosto e orelhas estavam queimando, como se fossem pedaços de carvão em brasa. Tentei evitar seu olhar, mas não consegui.

Então ele sorriu e sussurrou um "olá" claro e distinto, embora nenhum som pudesse ser ouvido de onde eu estava.

‘Meu Deus, o que foi isso? Isso é incrivelmente assustador. Eu não esperava sentir borboletas a se debaterem no meu estômago! ‘

Eu sorri de volta para ele, mas devo ter parecido tão estranhamente fora do lugar, que ele riu. Corei de novo e senti vontade de sumir dali, de tão sem jeito que fiquei.

Fui convenientemente salva pelo garçom, trazendo a refeição e colocando-a na frente dele. Sua atenção de repente se desviou para uma xícara de café preto e para o prato do dia: a omelete especial de tomates, queijo e cogumelos.

Não pude deixar de rir ...

***

- Tu ainda lembras?

- Como eu poderia esquecer? Fiquei em completo transe...

Ele riu. Simplesmente amava o jeito que ele parecia relaxar completamente e parecer tão juvenil, quando ria. Ele costumava me provocar com seus encantadores olhos azuis claros e aquele sorriso aberto, antes de tudo. Perguntei-me como um homem podia ser tão sexy, sem ser abertamente sexual ou indecentemente malicioso. Ele sempre foi tão elegante... tão controlado... tão encantador... tão bom e tão gentil... e ainda assim, tão desejável... tudo isso, no pacote mais adorável que eu pudesse, algum dia, desejar.

Meus pensamentos foram interrompidos pelo som irritante da campainha.

- Quem poderia ser?

***

- O que tu estás fazendo aqui?

- Vais-me convidar para entrar ou não?

- Sim. Claro. Desculpa.

- E quem é esse?

- Um amigo muito caro.

Ele sorriu e estendeu a mão para o meu amigo.

- Sei. Muito prazer em conhecê-lo.

- Igualmente..., mas quem é você?

- Um velho conhecido...

Estava claro, para meu actual companheiro, que apenas um "velho conhecido" não agiria daquela maneira, então olhou para mim, tentando ler as minhas reacções, antes de fazer qualquer movimento.

Era como se o rei esperasse que o peão fizesse sua jogada, para que ele, então, pudesse pensar em uma estratégia para continuar. Mas a rainha não estava ansiosa para deixar o flanco aberto e aquele homem tinha intenções de provar algum ponto, todo seu, por isso eu resolvi tomar a dianteira e dei o primeiro passo.

***

O ar não estava pesado, mas também não era totalmente confortável. Sentada à beira-mar, deixei minha mente vagar até alguns anos antes daquela data, quando o peso da idade era-me tão mais leve e até mais suportável. Aquele rosto costumava ser tão querido e aquele homem tão gentil.

O que nos aconteceu? Onde perdemos a sensação de respeito e bondade entre nós? O que o passado fazia de volta no meu presente? Meu receio era que as intenções não fossem nada boas…

Deixá-lo afastado e longe da minha vida havia sido difícil, na primeira vez, mas agora parecia que alguns fantasmas haviam decidido voltar para me assombrar. E eu que só queria recuperar o meu equilíbrio…

Por enquanto, tratei de tirá-lo de perto do meu parceiro e da minha casa, para que eu pudesse resolver aquela situação, sem envolvimento desnecessário de ambos os lados.

O homem voltou da casa de banho e sentou-se bem na minha frente. Ele ainda adorava sua cerveja gelada, enquanto eu estava acostumada com o vinho verde fresco, no calor do verão. Ele ainda parecia bem, embora seu cabelo ruivo tivesse rareado, evidentemente. Seu rosto estava um pouco mais redondo, mas ainda era bonito e adorável. Seu sorriso era quase o mesmo. Lembrei-me do dia em que me senti atraída por aquelas pequenas curvas nos cantos de seus lábios, quando ele me abriu o sorriso, pela primeira vez. Seus olhos tinham linhas de expressão, marcadas profundamente ao redor deles. Eu observei seu rosto cuidadosamente, estudando seus movimentos e tentando descobrir o que ele queria de mim... desta vez...

- Eu senti tua falta, sabias disso?

- Não. Não sabia. O que queres de mim, agora?

- Não sejas assim. Nós costumávamos ser tão bons juntos. Nós éramos verdadeiros amigos.

- Exatamente. Nós éramos amigos..., mas então tu deixaste a nossa amizade de lado por uma situação, que nem mesmo deixou-me nenhuma margem para lutar.

- E como tu sabes que eu também não lutei?

- Ainda poderíamos ter mantido nossa amizade... Algumas vez pensaste em como foi difícil escrever aquelas coisas, para que tu pudesses ter a tua vida perfeita?

- Tu disseste que nunca tínhamos sido amigos de verdade...

- Pelo bem do teu relacionamento. O que mais eu poderia dizer? Que costumávamos ser grandes amigos, mas, então, já não queríamos mais brincar de sermos amigos de verdade? Por favor! Me poupe!

Ele segurou minha mão. Eu estava tão chateada, que estava tremendo, visivelmente. Ele esperou até eu parar de discutir e disse com uma voz muito baixa:

- Eu realmente senti a tua falta. Foi tão difícil...

Ele parou quando percebeu que eu estava pálida e meus olhos estavam húmidos.

- Eu sinto muito.

- O que tu ainda queres de mim? Tiraste tudo o que eu tinha e agora achas que tudo volta a ser como antes? Voltas, como se nada tivesse acontecido e queres que eu te receba de braços abertos?

- Ela estava grávida. Era nosso bebê que ela iria ter. Eu nunca poderia deixá-la. Tu me conheces.

- Não, eu não te conheço. Eu realmente não tenho a mínima ideia de quem tu, realmente, és.

- É justo.

Ele parou por um tempo e depois falou, como se fosse a coisa mais natural de se dizer.

- Nós já não estamos juntos. Nós nos separamos como pessoas civilizadas, mas não podemos mais viver como um casal. O menino está com ela.

- E ele se parece tanto contigo...

- Como é que tu sabes?

Eu parei. Aquilo não deveria ter acontecido. Corei, imediatamente, e ele percebeu.

- Tu és tão surpreendente. Nunca quis  fazer-te sofrer, mas tenta entender...

Fiquei tão cansada de repente. Lembrei-me de como eu tentei, com todas as minhas forças, entender, aceitar e esquecer, mas nunca consegui fazê-lo. Tentei sufocar todas as coisas que sentia, mas não tinha ideia de que seria tão difícil. Não disse mais nada. Já não havia nada a dizer…

Ele segurou a minha mão nas dele e beijou meus dedos. Tentei libertar-me, mas ele era forte e firme. Virou a minha mão e beijou-me a palma, suavemente e com aparente ternura.

Minha cabeça estava dando voltas...

Contradictions (Part 1 of 2)

- Are you awake?

- Mmm… no… not really, no…

He chuckled.

- That smile tells me you are…

I was awake, of course, but kept my eyes shut while enjoying the way he was touching my skin with that very light touch. I had woken up when he kissed my shoulders and neck so softly it was like the brush of feathers on my skin. Maybe he was afraid of waking me up… Maybe he was just enjoying himself… Maybe he was taking advantage of the situation… Maybe I was too…

I turned around a bit and faced him, smiling and welcoming his tender caresses. I held his hand in mine and kissed his precious fingers.

- Good morning, early bird.

- Good morning, sleepy head.

He propped his head up, looking at me with a sweet smile and genuine loving eyes. I thought to myself: ‘what a lovely way to wake up’.

He encircled my body with his arms and held me closer to his chest, with his legs entwined around mine. I laid my head on his soft golden fur and closed my eyes, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat drumming softly in my ears. He kissed the top of my head and whispered.

- I love you…

I just moaned softly and nestled myself a bit more in his embrace, almost purring like a happy cat in a cosy and fluffy bed. I did not feel like opening my eyes again… Then I fell asleep.

When I woke up he was not around. I heard the sound of dishware and cutlery in the kitchen and I thought to myself he must have waited too long for me to wake up and decided to have something to eat on his own. The smell of coffee and something else was inviting.

I was afraid I was taking the kindness of that man for granted, so I got up and headed to where he was.

He was standing tall and handsome with a cup of strong coffee in his hand. Although we were not used to fancy breakfasting, he was busy with an omelette that smelled so good, my stomach immediately reacted to it. That would certainly suit for a lazy Saturday morning.

- Hey…

- Good morning again, sweet wheat field. What are you cooking?

He smiled at me. I used to call him ‘wheat field’ because of the colour of his hair and fur. He used to laugh at that, satisfied with the nick I gave him. He looked me in the eyes and lied without blushing.

- I’m cooking nothing special. Let’s sit and eat. I’m terribly hungry…

So was I. Still looking at him, I obeyed, while he poured the hot coffee in my cup and served me a portion of that perfect tomato, cheese and mushroom omelette. The taste was simply divine and reminded me of a point of time somewhere in my past.

***

It was late on a lazy Sunday morning and I was having a brunch on my own, at a Café downtown. I have always loved the smell of strong black coffee and that one was really good. I was starving, so I decided for the platter of the day, so I could have my meal delivered quicker. The taste of that Menu Special omelette was filling me in with a peculiar pleasure.

From where I was I could see the clientele crossing the front door and being directed to their tables by the serving staff. I was sitting by the window, watching people walking by and trying not to stare at anyone. 

A man, who was probably in his mid-forties, came across the door and looked around, trying to find an empty table. What called my attention was the colour of his amazing shiny blond hair and his walking posture. Taller than me, strong and handsome, that man was like a warrior coming victorious from a battle in the highlands. I felt like the place was emptied immediately and all the lights disappeared in front of my eyes, except for the one on top of his head.

As the waiter walked him in, I felt strangely interested. In my mind, I could hear a voice saying non-stop and naughtily:

‘Please sit close to me… please’…

And he did. For some reason, he chose a table very close to mine and sat right opposite to me. He checked the menu and ordered his meal very quickly.

That was a good sign. He seemed to be a man who knew very well what he wanted and he was quick to make decisions. I wondered if he would do that to all other things in his life.

While waiting, he naturally looked around, showing just a general little interest in the other customers sitting in the same room, chatting quietly and having their meals. Then he laid those lovely bright blue eyes on me.

Amazingly, the effect was absolutely unexpected. I blushed immediately and turned my attention back to my plate and cup, trying to look natural and at ease. My hands trembled however and the knife fell off to the ground with a loud noise. I am really clumsy when nervous, so I urged to pick the knife up and call the waiter to provide me with a clean one. He was already on his way, probably used to help with that kind of things many times a day. I struggled not to look at the table right in front of mine, but my eyes betrayed me.  He was looking at me again. Our eyes interlocked. My face and ears were burning like pieces of ignited coals. I tried to avoid his stare but could not.

Then he smiled and whispered a clear and distinctive ‘hi’, although no sound could be heard from where I was.

‘My goodness, what was that? This is amazingly scary. I was not expecting to feel butterflies in my stomach!’

I smiled back at him but I must have looked so awkwardly out of place that he giggled. I blushed again and felt like steaming from inside out.

I was conveniently saved by the waiter bringing the meal and placing it loudly in front of him. His attention suddenly moved to a cup of black coffee and the platter of the day: the special tomato, cheese and mushroom omelette.

I couldn’t help but laugh…

***

- Do you still remember?

- How could I ever forget? You mesmerized me…

He giggled. I simply loved the way he seemed to relax completely and look so juvenile when he laughed. He used to tease me with his lovely light blue eyes and that open grin, before anything else. I wondered how a man could be so sexy without being openly sexual or indecently mischievous. He was always so classy… so controlled… so helpful… so lovable… so nice and so kind… and yet so desirable… all in one adorable package.

My thoughts were interrupted by the irritant sound of the doorbell.

- Who could that be?

***

- What are you doing here?

- Will you invite me to come in or not?

- Yes. Sure. Sorry.

- And who would that be?

- A very good friend of mine.

He smiled and offered his handshake to my friend.

- I see. Nice meeting you.

- Likewise… but who are you?

- An old acquaintance…

It was clear to my friend that just an “old acquaintance” would not act that way, so he looked at me, to try and read me, before making any move.

It was like the knight waiting for the pawn to make his move, so he could think of a strategy to go on. But the rook was not that eager to fly low and he had intentions to make his point, so I made the first move.

***

The air was not heavy, but not totally comfortable either. Sitting by the waterfront, I let my mind wander years before when the weight of age was so lighter and more bearable. That face used to be so dear and that man so kind.

What had happened to us? Where had we lost the sense of respect and the kindness to each other? What was the past doing back in my present?

Taking him apart and away from my life was difficult the first time, but now it seems that some ghosts have come back to haunt me. I just wanted to bring my balance back.

For the moment, I just took him away from my partner and home, so I could sort that situation out, without unnecessary involvement from all sides.

He came back from the washroom and sat right in front of me. He still loved his cold beer, while I was used to the fresh green wine in the heat of the summer. He still looked good, although his ginger hair had thinned evidently. His somewhat round face was still handsome and lovely. His smile was almost the same. I recalled the day I was attracted by those little curves on his lips, when he opened his grin to me the first time. His eyes had lines drawn around them. I watched his face carefully, studying his movements and trying to figure out what he wanted from me... this time...

- I missed you, did you know that?

- No, I didn’t. What do you want from me now?

- Don’t be such a pain. We used to be so good together. We were friends.

- Exactly. We were friends… but then you left that friendship aside for a situation you did not even left a margin to fight for.

- How do you know I did not fight for?

- We could still have kept our friendship… Do you have any idea of how difficult it was to write those things so you would have your perfect life?

- You stated we had never been real friends…

- For the sake of your relationship. What else could I say? That we used to be friends but then we would not anymore? Please! Spare me!

He held my hand. I was so pissed off I was trembling. He waited until I stopped arguing and said in a very low voice:

- I really missed you. It was so difficult…

He stopped when he realised I was blank and my eyes were moist.

- I’m sorry.

- What do you want from me? You have taken everything away and now what? You come back as if nothing had happened and say you’re sorry. Am I supposed to forgive you?

- She was pregnant. It was our baby she was going to have. I would never be able to leave her. You know me.

- No. I don’t know you. I really have no idea who you really are.

- Fair enough.

He stopped for a while and then said, as if it was the most natural thing to say.

- We are not together anymore. We have broken up like civilized people, but cannot live as a couple anymore. The boy is with her.

- He looks so much like you.

- How do you know?

I stopped. That was not supposed to happen. I blushed. He noticed it.

- You’re so surprising. I did not mean to make you suffer, but try to understand…

I got so tired suddenly. I remembered how I tried so hard to understand, to accept and forget, but I could never do so. I have tried to suffocate all the things I felt, but it was so difficult. I said nothing else.

He held my hand in his and kissed my fingers. I tried to pull myself free from his grasp but he was strong and firm. He turned my hand around and kissed the palm of my hand with apparent tenderness.

My head was going dizzy…

Partida

E partes…

No silêncio solitário

Da manhã de verão,

Das águas e do sol,

Entre os aromas do café

Fresco,

Do leite e do mel,

Na rotina domingueira

Dos bichos e dos homens.

Partes,

Porque partir faz parte

De um processo

Que não pode ser,

Senão e absolutamente

Natural.

Já nem olhas para trás

E teus passos já não são instáveis,

Nesta estrada ladeada por flores,

A cobrir imensos campos

De cobre e aço.

Partes…

E deixas, partidos,

Em incontáveis pedaços,

Os corações

De quem te amou,

Estilhaçando as emoções,

Que já nem sei sentir,

Nesta confusão estranha,

Que manifesta-se, talvez,

Tarde demais.

E partes,

A romper o frágil e físico fio

Que te prendia a este mundo,

Deixando as recordações

De momentos

Que, agora,

Já são apenas, doces lembranças

A flutuar nas memórias voláteis

Dos tempos.

Partes tranquilo,

Porque a tua viagem é,

Agora,

Outra…

E o caminho desse lado

Já foi trilhado.

Partes, enfim,

Porque partir é o objetivo

Final

Desta curta

E solitária jornada.

Partes sem um adeus,

Sem um aviso

E sem o peso desnecessário da bagagem.

Partes,

Porque esta partida é um novo início,

Tanto para quem vai,

Quanto para quem fica,

Porque viver é preciso,

Sempre,

Mesmo que seja,

Somente,

Na memória

De quem não vai contigo…

Stares (Final Part)

I no longer knew whether to believe in everything, anything or nothing at all, for I could not clearly distinguish when I was dreaming or when those things were really happening. For the sake of my sanity I decided to accept that there is a bit of truth in everything.

Although still somewhat clumsy by the effect of the medication, which ran in great quantity through my veins, blurring reality and confusing my perception, I read the message still open in my hand again and again.

"Don’t be afraid of what will come up for you in the future. Our minds are extremely powerful. A man who does not believe in anything, does not have many reasons to live.

You are not alone! We've always been around.

Come to the place where we met before as soon as you can. "

Although I considered the content quite intriguing and vague, that message, for some reason, seemed to bring a hidden meaning that I did not immediately understand.

*** 

For a few days I followed the diet, took my medications seriously, and committed myself to physiotherapy to speed my way out of that place. I knew it was imperative to get well soon. In those days, I was practically alone all the time and did not receive any visitors except for the nurses and the doctors, which, in a way, was a good sign.

Better left alone than...

I urgently needed to return to my quiet boring life and the less intrusion I would have during the recovery process, the better it would be. I took that lack of interference as a gift and tried to do my best to build up my strength and health as quickly as possible.

But the words, put that way in the message, would not leave my mind at ease...

***

- We had to leave you alone, so you could recover faster.

- I should have known there was something behind that apparent serenity...

- The final diagnosis was given. The doctor is on his way. We better leave you alone, now.

The doctor entered the small hospital room less than one minute after they left. I was sitting on the bed when he handed me a report and allowed me to read it before telling me anything.

***

I held the small dark wooden box in my hands, still closed, with an unusual affection. I was melancholic and that nostalgia made sense in the face of what I had just read. I sat down on the floor of the room and slid forward the thin cover, decorated with small and delicate arabesques, detaching it from the main body of the box and placing it near my leg.

My little travel souvenirs from other eras, lay dormant in the background covered with a fine burgundy velvet: a brown urchin, the fragile dried and empty flower petal shaped husk of a Physalis, a few seashells, two pebbles smoothed by the constant action of the river water, a bronze kitten, smaller than my thumb, a piece of scrolled paper given to me on the street by a stranger, where my favourite phrase was written,...

“Be careful of what you wish for, it might just come true"...

Funny that I had never noticed that there was a symbol drawn on the outside of the paper scroll, which was now familiar to me: a stylized eye. After a brief survey, I discovered that it was the symbol of knowledge. That made all sense…

On the bookshelf above my head, the mahogany shelves served as a frame for my collection of art books, where the life and work of Salvador Dalí stood out, not only because it was placed right in the centre, but because it was the most colourful and significant volume of all.

I thought of how my life fit into the few records left inside that small room, with the window facing the seaside.

So little in quantity and so much in emotional load... my living in this strange world...

I had decided to leave it all behind. Going away, that way, was a difficult decision, but it had to be done. I had not told anyone, and for all intents and purposes it was just another trip, like so many others… but it was not really that simple...

***

My soul was heavy, as if a very dark shadow hung over me, in spite of the warm and sunny day and the sky being almost as clear as my prospects for the future.

The piece of paper, with the most important information of my life, was still in my fingers. My gaze was lost in the horizon. The sea roared against the great rocks at the corner of the beach. It seemed to want to challenge me to face the great secret.

My mind came back in time a little to rekindle the memory of the decisive moment...

***

I read the report, with the diagnosis, in deep silence. There was not much doubt for interpretation. I looked up and saw that the doctor was staring at me very seriously, unable to hide the worry in his face.

- Any doubt?

- Only one. How long, I still have?

- It's hard to tell. In brain damages caused by clots this size, there is no way to give an accurate answer. It may be just days... Since we cannot operate, everything depends on the patient... We've had cases...

He stooped the sentence halfway. My expression told him, clearly, that I was not interested in other cases...

- Got it. Was that the reason for the hallucinations?

He smiled lightly. That sad smile made me feel completely lost and unsupported. How many times had he had to do the same procedure, knowing that the control over the lives of his patients was not in his hands, after all...

I stood up, shook his hand, and walked slowly out along the bright corridor where the morning sunlight coming in from the rectangular windows sketched obtuse geometric figures on the walls.

Inside, I felt a huge void, like nothing ever before.

***

The shrill lament of a solitary seagull brought me back immediately to the present and I broke my silence.

- We spend an entire lifetime searching for the purpose and the reason why we are here and now, without realizing that the true meaning of life is simply to live! There is no reward, no eternal life, no heaven and no hell...

- But for many, it is so much easier to "believe" in an all-powerful, over-manipulated truth and to live a big lie, which makes them happy, hopeful and lighter.

- If on the one hand it is simple, on the other hand it is extremely complicated, because we only realize that we had not enjoyed the best life can offer, when we have lost almost everything.

- Eternity is just a concept. The intensity of what we live is far more important than anything else...

The man with ginger hair and dark blue eyes, sitting next to me, faced me and stared into my eyes once more. Then, standing up, he lightly touched my shoulder, turned and left me sitting there following his walk away from me with sad eyes. Before disappearing behind the little sand dune, he turned around and waved. From afar, his eyes, although it was perhaps and only my impression, glowed with that power it did on the first time. He moved his lips and I, at that moment, fully realized what he meant.

I tore the paper into very small pieces, several times, and opened my hands, letting the wind carry away those tiny white confetti, tainted by the black fragments of the printer ink, which no longer had the same force of a few seconds ago, when the letters made words and those, brought together, composed one of the most difficult information my reason had to digest.

I got up and walked to the car which was parked next to the little restaurant. As I entered, the woman seated in the shadow of a large red and white umbrella rose and came toward me, walking steadily on top of her stiletto heels and defying the notion of balance. The elegant suit and the way she kept her hair lined up in a bun on the top of her attractive head gave me a sense that beauty, despite being a very personal concept, was a reality that always made me feel so peaceful. She opened the passenger door and said, smiling:

- Are you ready? Let's go?

I smiled, lightly, without saying anything. I just turned the key in the ignition and drove the car out of the parking lot.

In my mind, the message mumbled so many times by the redheaded man, was still evident and kept repeating in my memory, over and over again.

"You're not alone!"...

I had always believed, however, that in reality, from the beginning to the end of our lives, we had always been alone...

I adjusted the rear view mirror to check if the transport case in the back seat was securely fastened to the seat belt. The cat, an ordinary European tabby, was dozing calmly in it.

Maybe they're right, after all…