other

.
sometimes i think there is another woman inside of me
and she suffers.
all the happiness and plenitude in my life mean nothing to her.
she suffers and she cries for she needs to find her love.

she tells me he suffers as well.
she says he claims and prays and cries out our names so maybe we follow the sound...

yes i know! i know how he smells like and the sound of his voice
i know his eyes and his hands
but his face is unclear.

she makes me wait for him at the door with the heaviest weight on my shoulders.
it's like he is running towards me and i can even hear his steps.

we are both lost in this sharp emptiness.

and we are here.
i am here
stuck at this door
tears in my eyes
wondering where?
wondering why?
why does she need me to cry her tears?
.
.

Tweet

.
.

So there you are...
I listen to your words but not to your voice
I can see your surroundings

I see your days
I dream your nights
I know you are
and I am...not

You're still my ghost
.
.
.

haunted heart

.
there's no peace in the night if you come to me
but it's hell when you are not here

you smile (in my dreams) and I feel safe
but there's no calm after you're gone

I keep willing for your words
for I need something to say

you only stare

your eyes warm me
your stare scares me
your silence kills me

your absence is death

oh please...

haunt me

.

Q&A

- I’ve been thinking… aren’t you afraid of this relationship? I mean, you being older than him, don’t you think it is a risk? Like, he can leave you for a younger woman some day or something?

"Listen…we are born prepared for “ENDINGS”. We need to leave our mom’s breasts, the bottle, the pacifier, we need to leave home to go to school some day…we spend our lives experiencing different kinds of pain. So the answer is: no, I'm not afraid of that.
Besides…every love story ends up some day, love may last, but love stories end up sooner or later, and there’s no way out: they end up in tears. One of them leaves, or one of them dies…
I’m not afraid of that. You know what scares me to death? Alzheimer! Alzheimer scares me…because I can’t even think about the possibility of forgetting his smile. I can’t. Forget the way he looks at me? or what he smells like? the sound of his voice? God forbid.
Maybe he leaves me some day, you know, it’s possible. But the time we spent together will live with me. Not to recognize the man I loved most in my entire life? THIS is scary. "

Dreams of Darkness

"golden slumbers fill your eyes,
smiles awake you when you rise.
sleep pretty baby do not cry,
and I will sing a lullaby."

lennon & mccartney

What if he wakes up after dreaming of this woman, and he can't understand what she meant?

- "Don't forget my face...look again...don't forget my face."

As if it's possible to forget.
What if he can't remember, and he woke up, he put on his shorts, t-shirt, sneakers and went jogging? What if his cell phone rang ten times, and he thought he'd hear some important news about someone he doesn't know? What if the coffee he ordered tasted like something new, and he was not able to know what it was? What if every time he looked at the chair in front of him he thought someone would sit and talk to him?
- Hey, don't forget my face.
- What?
- Don't forget...

What if he woke up after ten, and never went jogging? What if breakfast was bad and the day seemed to be horrible from the start? What if he saw the picture on the wall and found it strange? What if he wants to replace it now, for some other colors...as if he knew the face that should be painted instead, but could not find it?

What if at this point he thinks he's got a strange day? What if he thinks there's something missing? And if he feels the emptiness that was not there yesterday, and everywhere he looks there is a blank he cannot fill in?

And what if SHE lays down again, as soon as the night gets colder, and she closes her eyes with a heart ache? What if a tear comes out along with a tiny smile, as if she knew why she's crying or what's the new reason for her to be happy? What if she falls asleep, and her conscience flies to a place she can not reach? What if his face comes out this deep immense darkness, and the voice [she knows] enters her brain saying: "Don't forget my face.." ?

What if encounters were possible outside the darkness?

Nostalgia

Gosh I'm sad...
Last night I've heard about the death of a girl I met over the internet, years ago.
We were not friends, but she was always there, at the same chatroom. That killed me, because after hearing about her, they told me about another friend who passed away too, and she was a very sweet girl.

Well, I've been feeling nostalgic these days. One of the thoughts that keep crossing my mind over and over, is that maybe my friends overseas will pass away and I'll never get to know. We exchange e-mails from time to time, but the truth is they don't really know what they mean to me. Maybe I'm just a screen name for them. And for some of them -- I'm pretty sure -- reading my name take them to a time they don't miss. It was a very good time for me, but most of them don't share this feeling because it ended in a weird way, some of them got really hurt. But there was "us", the pink sparkling flowered side of Hollywood Cafe, the morning crew. Yes we rocked! We were civil, we were sweet, we were buddies. I miss each one of them.

So, after talking to my friend and hearing all the bad news, I decided I'll write a document and save it in some bank safe, with my desires. It's not exactly a will, just a list of desires. It will include a list of e-mail adresses and phone numbers of people I'd want to be informed if something bad happens to me. Other than that, some of my passwords: myspace, orkut, twitter; so that they can keep my profile, but put the world on ignore to avoid morbid farewell scraps and so. I think weird that people keep sending messages to dead people.

That's it. I'm sad.
I'd like to be able to be closer to people I like. I'd like they'd feel the same.
That's it.
I'm sad.

Sun and Moon

Trying to organize my papers this weekend, I've found this story I wrote a long time ago. It made me smile...

Curitiba, October 27th 1997

Once upon a time, when the universe was a dark little hole, there was just doubts. God couldn't handle the fact of having so little space for so many ideas and thoughts.
So god decided to create light, and the Sun was born.
But for some reason ... a strange kind of planet was born along.
That was not in God's plans! It was a SHE! And she had no light. Any female "thing" at that point would disturb God's creation ...

She was just hanging there, easy and provocative, with her beauty...reflecting the sunlight with the simple intention of showing off. A typical female thing!
Well, God didn't realize what was going on there, and just kept doing his job. But, meanwhile, the Sun gave the female planet too much attention, naming her "MOON" - sort of a nickname for "My own".
Millions of years passed until God could find out that he didn't create just light and it's reflection. He's created LOVE and it's terrible attraction.

Oh! God became furious! And in his anger, he decided to create the Earth, just for to keep those two rebels apart. The earth was just a piece of dead ground then; no life, no beauty ... just a ball creating distance and pain.
But love always finds a way to turn pain into something better. Not even God can control that.

So everyday, the Moon could be seen the from earth when the night was coming. And every day she had the feeling that she would see the Sun. He used to feel the same every morning and every night, but it would never happen!
Tens of millions of years later, the sun started to cry during every single sunset. The whole sky used to get red of his anger, and sad of his pain. Then his tears started to wet the earth's ground, which made the Earth a living planet.
In their spinning search for each other, the Sun and the Moon created days and nights, animals and humans, joy and pain, love and hate...

When I was a young girl, I used to think that the sun's bed was located behind the mountains. As I grew up, I moved to another Country, where the sea is bluer and the sunset is even sadder. Then I've realized that the Sun never sleeps. It just goes away waiting for the morning after, willing to see the Moon...and the ocean is just his evening tears.

The mountains were standing there, just to hide this story from me.


Good morning.

And the world is changing!

Amen!

You're gone

Mercedes Gameiro

Talk to me...

(...I'm a good listener)

.

Girly Chat

H said: Oh no! you are in love!

Missy said: You know nothing! You'd marry him tomorrow morning. Every girl would!

H said: okay then, gimme the number!

Missy said: Uh-hu, write it down: 1-800-BZOFF.

H said: hehehe. what color do you want your straight vest made? Plain white?

Missy said: It can be vogue-gray, as far as it's Dior. ;)
Make it king size just in case.

H said: are you planning to get fat?

Missy said: No...but if he comes visit, I'll need room for him.

H said: ...



.

Impossible

it’s impossible
impossible to have you
you don’t exist...

sometimes

you are real

you are real in my dreams
in my sleepless nights
in my heart that’s broken...

in pieces

pieces of your lonely thoughts
pieces of my wandering mind

impossible not to love you

for your voice is what silence brings me
for your smile is the best view from my loneliness
for your words...
impossible not to hear them

i can listen to you thinking,
i can listen to you crying,
i can listen to this whispering sound
that says: some night…
someday…
some other way…

On repeat, in my car.

Soundtrack of Once. A delicate and rare film.

On The Phone

She: Hello?

He: Hi.

She: Who is this?

He: You know…

She: No, I don’t.

He: Gotta guess, then…

She: Ok…you’re Brad Pitt, with a pretty voice, telling me that you are so tired of Angelina you want me to run away with you to Fidji.

He: Hmmm…nope.

She: Dammit...

He: (laughs)

She: Listen… you tell me who you are, or I’m gonna hang up.

He: You asked me to call.

She: I did?

He: ...

She: hmm…I see…

He: Then, we met in a dream…we danced…the beach…your hair…etc…etc…

She: It was not a beach.

He: Of course it was.

She: No. It was a restaurant, or something like that.

He: A beach.

She: Ok then... you know nothing about my dream. Ha!

He: Why don’t you tell me?

She: Hm…There's nothing. You were there. That’s all.

He: C’mon…Tell me.

She: What ?

He: I want to know how you feel about it.

She: By the way, how did you find my phone number?

He: You gave it to me.

She: I did? In a dream? Are you crazy?

He: Not in the dream, bonehead! In the e-mail you sent me from the phone.

She: What? Does it send the number? Gosh, I gotta change the settings.

He: Thank you…

She: No! I mean…now that I know. I mean…Ah! You know what I mean.

He: Yes. You want me to hang up.

She: No!

He: You knew I’d call, right?

She: Are you the “calling-her-tomorrow” kind of guy?

He: Oh…hell yeah! I always call after dreams.

She: Hahaha!

He: It was in the same night, you know?

She: What?

He: The dream.

She: Bullshit! You don’t even sleep when I do.

He: So you don’t know where I’ve been.

She: What you mean?

He: I’m in your time zone, just two countries down.

She: Wow…so close, yet so far…

He: I’m writing it down.

She: What?

He: “So-close-yet-so-far”: for a poem title.

She: Hahahah. For me?

He: Yes. About that hypnotic kiss…

She: What kiss?

He: We kissed.

She: Liar!

He: On the beach. Remember?

She: Not on the beach. It was on that table, in the restaurant’s corner.

He: See? There was a kiss!

She: Hahahah! You're bad!

He: I’m great!

She: Jeez…

He: What about the elevator? That was really great!

She: Elevator? There was no elevator!

He: Oh yes, there was! I…kind of opened your shirt in the elevator…

She: No way! It was at the bedroom’s door.

He: Ha! Bingo!

She: What?

He: I opened your shirt. See? I know.

She: Did I say that?

He: Yes you did! And I remember.

She: Stop! You had no dream at all!

He: Ok…I won’t tell the champagne part.

She: …

He: Wow…gives me goosebumps.

She: …

He: It was your idea…sorry, it was impossible for me to stop.

She: …

He: Then we went to the shower…champagne mixed to your perfume and hot water…

She: …

He: Hey!... Are you there?

She: Shut up.

He: Sorry! Am I lying?

She: No!…but it's like you know. I told you I had a dream of you, nothing else.

He: I'm telling you: I had the same dream.

She: How come?

He: I don’t know, but it was great!

She: Oh my…

He: Are you okay?

She: I’m blushing.

He: Because I know about “the dream”? Or because I saw you naked?

She: Gosh…both.

He: Can I make you blush again?

She: No!

He: What if I told you I’m arriving tomorrow?

She: Where?

He: At your door, babe.

She: Uh?

He: Well, almost. I’ll be at the airport around noon, and then some driver will take me to some hotel. Can I ask you to meet me somewhere?

She: …

He: Hey!

She: I don’t know…Would you like me to?

He: Absolutely.

She: I’m going to blush for sure.

He: Hahaha. Cute. I want champagne.

She: Shut up…

He: And shower…

She: Stop! Nothing will happen because of a little… shared delusion!

He: Oh, yeah right! We dream the same dream, at the same time, in the same night and it's just a little shared delusion!

She: I don’t know, but... there’s nothing going on between us anyway! Forget about it!

He: It was special.

She: Nah! just a dream.

He: Don’t say that…

She: Whatever!

He: How long do we know each other?

She: I’ve never met you.

He: Tell me: how long do we know each other?

She: We don’t. You've never told me your name.

He: You never asked.

She: Cause it doesn’t matter. I like who you are for me, you’ll always be the guy I know, no matter what. But I don't really know you.

He: What if I’m ugly, fat and stupid?

She: You’re lovely, kind, brilliant and the sweetest guy, even if you are a fat plumber!

He: See? I'm special.

She: Anyway, we’ve never met.

He: But we've been talking for years.

She: Just occasionally. We don't really know one another.

He: Oh, stop...we know each other enough for to dream the same dreams.

She: Right…but no champagne, or shirt, or shower…nothing!

He: We'll see. See you tomorrow.

She: No! Wait. What if I can't...

He: It’s not an option, Missy. I’ll call you. Sleep tight…dream of me.

She: I am dreaming.

He: I know…

Having Friends

November, 14th 2006

Years passed so fast, and so much has been lost. I lost some dear friends, others not that much. My children had grown more than I could imagine. My parents aged. My career committed suicide. My nephews are men and women I love. My son is a great honest man who I'm so proud of. My daughter is a young woman who I admire and she makes me happy. My city is not mine anymore. A new city adopted me. I have more wrinkles, more muscles, less waist, longer hair, I'm more conscientious, I am younger, and I am lighter.

Many things had changed. Others just don't surprise me.
I moved to another country and I would miss my friends horribly. I remember that.
Oh my god… How would I be without these people?

It was 1996. Far from home, I signed on the interner for the very first time. I clicked on the America Online icon, and opened an account. Browsing, I got to the entertainment area and then, by accident, I've found "Hollywood Cafe". What I've found there was people talking about my kind of things.... as they were part of my hall of friends.
I was fascinated, tempted to chat, but I was afraid to write for my English wasn't good enough. I went to that chatroom once, twice, and... one night when I entered the room, somebody said: "Hi, Mg". Followed by many others "Hi Mg's". There was nothing I could do but to follow my impulse and talk back. That was just the start.
That was when one of the best parts of me – MgMyself - came to light and brought people who changed my life. People who still have a giant influence on who I am. Some were brilliant, others ridiculous, some so real, others fake, some selfish, others wonderful. Some amusing, some just plain interesting.
I made friends there. Many. Innumerable. In that place, I discovered that people become too close when they meet over the Internet. I've met them in real life sometimes, and one year later I came back to Brazil.

Time passes...people passed. Once again, many of them had been lost but a small number was not. With these few special friends I’ve been talking by e-mail and instant messages for the last 10 years. From far apart, we watched the growth of our children, graduations, marriages that ended, new relationships, sadnesses, losses, joy, Christmases…and life.
Last month I had the pleasure to see four of my dearest close friends: Mary Pat Cantrell, Bonnye, -- and indispensables, infallibles -- Wendie Dox and Kim Zimmermann. How happy is this?

This is for saying that life gives us things that will never be taken from us. Some friendships and some people are bigger than any distance. I know, and they know that we are together, even if one of us lives in the other side of the world. I know and they know that nothing on this planet can destroy what we’ve built, from far away, on solid foundations.

e-raser

I can see you from where I am.
I can see the green light.
Strange…

I don’t feel like walking in your direction.
I don’t feel like talking, for you look like fiction.
I don’t feel I’m part of your dysfunction.

I guess your words have erased you.
I guess my sadness has killed you.

I can see you from where I am
So I look for what I once felt
But you’re not there…
You’re not even real.

I think my spirit has erased you.
Yes, sure...my heart has already killed you.

Insomnia

Inside my sleepless mind


I went to bed at 3 am but I was not sleepy at all. For a miracle I slept till 5:30, when Claudio’s alarm clock went off warning he needed to leave for location. I helped him out with things he did not ask, and he left. I don’t like when he doesn’t smile. I whish he could smile 24-7, but he says not everything in life is my “pink world”. I simply can’t pretend I don’t see it, so I made him a papaya shake – which is almost pink – hugged him tight, hung on his neck, “pinkly-kissed” his papaya lips as if it would change the color of his smile.

I went back to bed thinking I would sleep till 9. Morning was still night, so it was fresh. A nice wind was coming from the window, the fan on the ceiling, the cold bed sheets…my 350 pilows doing the perfect surrounding so that any move would be an invite for dreams…and I’m awake.

The clock on the wall screams every two seconds trying to convince me I should close my eyes, but my brain cannot stop: a retrospective of the last few months, a visit to the next few years, a try to understand my actions and my feelings. I hear my mother’s voice pronouncing her favorite words: “analise this…analise this…”

I go far and away while the clock tryes to hold the seconds like Hiro Nakamura; I do the math: how many years, how many months, how many days, how many bills, how much is fair, how much, how many, how many, how much…I remember people and things. My brain is freaking out as if I knew how it feels to be stoned; it seems like an airport board changing flight numbers and city names -- in my case, changing people’s names, pending issues and desires on hold.

Between a tic and a tac, sweet Chris Isaak comes and sings to me.

- Hey you, what you’re doing inside my head?

- You called me.

- It was just a thought; it’s this song stuck in my head.

- Only the song?

- A song is never alone.

Behave - he says the way he ever does, and then leaves forgetting to take the song with him.

Having Chris’ voice in the background, some other people come to visit me. Not all of them were invited, not all of them are welcome. Some of them just come in and say one single word; others smile to remind me I left something behind. I did leave a lot behind; I just want to know where I left myself tonight.
In nights like these, life comes and catches me! Plus, there are all these lines – mine and from others – hammering on my head in a complete nonsense disorder.

They are not your experiences, they are stories I wrote thinking of you
There's no substitute for enthusiasm, no substitute, no substitute? Dammit.
I wish I had Mark Zupan's strength
Imagination! Is it really more important than knowledge? I'd rather be wiser, Mr. Einstein...my imagination kills me sometimes
Evolution is an imperfect and often violent process
I'm tangled in my blanket of clouds, dreaming aloud
Read my soul, not my words!
My name is Dito Montiel and I'm going to leave everyone in this film
Passing hearts, passing hearts...so sad
I don't know how to play this game of yours
In the heart, not in this land or that. Lasting victories are won IN THE HEART
I don't miss those days. I miss you!
Send God, don't send Jesus...Iraq is no place for children
I miss romance. Why do I need it that much? Is that wrong?
Shut up Mercedes, you gotta sleep!

Just esquizofrenic like this…my brain thinks in two different languages all the time and some thoughts won’t happen in Portuguese. Someone asked me once to drop the “anglicisms”, but that would be self-mutilation.

I knew I HAD to speak English since I was a little girl, and then something almost supernatural happened and made me learn. Weird things happen to me…I’ve learned English from my dreams – either asleep or awake. No English classes, nada. Funny this way… From those days on, my brain cannot distinguish one language from the other, only one feeling from the other. Portuguese is for what is pratical, and English for what comes from the heart.

“I love you” is deeper than “eu te amo”, “amazing” is way overwhelming while “incrível” is just a bit increadible. “The man of my dreams” is someone “o homem da minha vida” would never be.

Then I’ve met people who sound like poetry just for being alive, and I found out that some of them couldn’t speak Portuguese. Thus my weird super-powered brain made possible to me to be close to them. See? It’s good to be a bit crazy. See? I’m explaining things to myself at 7 a.m. and I haven’t slept yet.
But I need to sleep, so that November finally arrives. October brought the change I was never prepared to: the sudden ending of the sweet dream that used to heal my heart. The emptiness of this loss relieves me a little bit, I confess, but at the same time it weights like an empty soul.

Maybe November brings me some flowers…

“Yeah, it’s empty out there”, says another voice while I hide my head underneath the pillows.

- Sing to me, Christopher.

Monologue

I’m driving my car when I see a lot of people and the noise they are making. I’m curious so I look at them and you are there. You see me. I keep driving slowly; you step out of the crowd, arms in the air, screaming my name. It seems so unreal, but you call my name again, and ask me to stop. I stop at the wrong spot, other people yelling at me and honking their horns, but there is nothing I can do. If I drive around the block I”ll probably lose you. No! I don’t dare to drive 10 meters. When I saw your arms up in the air, stretching your neck in order to see me, your voice screaming my name…I stopped. I could only stop.

I don’t turn around – I don’t look at you, I don’t look at the other cars. I’m afraid to move. I look at the rear mirror and I see you trying to find a way across the sea of people. My heart is beating faster. My stomach is frozen. I’m so afraid. “Why are you here?”

You get closer and closer, people try to understand where you’re going, those men trying to avoid the crowd to follow you, they want you to go back inside…and you get closer to the car. You stop at my car’s door and I stare straight ahead. I freeze, and then I look in the rear mirror that shows nothing anymore. My heart is jumping, my stomach is turning upside down; I close my eyes as a rock is being thrown at my head. You knock on the window. I open it and look in your direction; I’m afraid my heart would burst out of my chest and stain your clothes. You wear long sleeves underneath short ones, but inside you wear a smile so wonderful it could light up the entire street.

My heart beat changes when I find your eyes. It stops!
Three seconds of death and I need a smile.

You ask me where I’m going. I don’t know. “I don’t know anymore, what about you? Where are you going that you ended up here?” You open the car’s door, lift your hand to someone I can’t see, who enters my car as soon as I step outside. You ask him to park it and whisper in my ear that I’m not going anywhere, neither are you. The crowd confuses me and I can’t understand your presence, you are too close. How come you didn’t tell me? It’s like a dream or some delusion, but dreams can’t grab people’s arms and you grabbed mine to take me somewhere I don’t know.
We pass through all the crazy people and they ask each other who I am, nobody answers, neither do I for I’m no longer sure. All I know is you are here, jeans, two t-shirts, your happy eyes looking at me, and a smile so shinny it would light up the entire neighborhood. You take me by the hand and we run towards the elevator, you pull the “close door button” once, three times, four, five, and the door shuts just when the crowd is reaching us. You breathe closing your eyes and hug me in silence like you need shelter. But I am the one who finds shelter in your chest, my back hidden by your arms and your lips kissing my hair. I don’t say a word. I can’t. My voice won’t come out and I wouldn’t know what to say anyway. We stand like this as the elevator reaches the 10th floor. Once again you grab my arm and guide me through the corridor taking me god-knows-where…I look at you...so tall... and you stop, staring at me. We are in the middle of the 10th floor’s corridor and I don’t know why I’m here, or you, because you didn’t tell me…

You say I look better face to face, I say you don’t look bad either, you smile "inside of me" in a way I can’t explain, a smile so bright it would light up the entire city. You hug me again, but before I can respond, you take me in your arms and just walk kissing me, while my heart stops. I don’t say a word. I don’t know why this is happening if I’m awake, if I’m not alone, if I can feel you here.

You open the door and I see your bags. I suppose you’ve just arrived, so I do understand the reason why I didn’t know you were here. I wouldn’t tell you either. I’d arrive, dial your number and say: “Hey! What are you gonna do in half an hour?” Then I’d tell you that I’m here to see you, that I could not live this way anymore, in this vacuum of thoughts. Then you put me back on the floor and I see the room spinning, you ask me if I’m all right and kiss me again. You take me to the chair and tell me everything I've been dreaming of. You also say you were afraid I would run. Run away from you? You should know I can't.

You hold my hands and I remember how I want yours, so I keep them close to my face and I see your rings… now I am the one who smiles - a smile so deep it would explode the whole planet.
I kiss your hands for they exist and you understand exactly what I mean. You sure do.

Can I lie to myself? Please let me think I’m awake, let me think I’m not lonely and your smile is here, shining so much it lights up the entire universe!

Ancient Spell

“You were a knight: a strong, courageous, fearless knight, and the king’s best man. You used to spend too much time on battlefields while I was praying for you to come back. There was always a lamp on our cabin's door, lighten up for to guide you back home to me.

One fine day you were gone to the war. Months and months have passed and, one by one, the men came back to their families. I spent days at the front door, scented with oils, all dressed up, waiting for my love to come home…. I asked about you but your buddies could not look at me in the eyes. The last soldier to arrive gave me your sword with honors and told me that you got killed in battle as a brave man. You were a hero. There would never be other warrior like you.

No…there would never be other man like you. I cried and screamed, and damned the king and every one of his generals, and every drop of blood! I prayed the skies to take off this earth every man who has ever wanted a war, and take them to live eternity in hell!

Then I stopped crying and wrote a prayer asking every saint, ghost, angel, spirit, every form of energy from good or evil, to bring you back to me. I put your clothes, my clothes, our bed sheets, our personal objects, your sword, our glasses, our intimacy, my letters, your bottles of wine; all over our bed…I threw the scented oils I used to fill your bath with…and the oil lamp that should have guided you home…and I set our house on fire.

I transformed our love into smoke perfumed with pain and sadness…the smoke got to the sky covering the stars in that full moon night. Now you and I were up there in the smoke, united forever, as pure feelings…pure love and memories.

While the fire burned everything we’ve touched, I kept saying my prayer desperately for the smoke to guide us in our lives to come; for you to come back to me in each one of these lives, and never ever go to the battlefields again; for the sword and blood never take you away from me.

Down on my knees, watching the smoke transform desire in assurance, I was arrested. I was tortured. I confessed to be impure. But I did not feel the pain, for my soul was no longer part of anything. I was burned in the bonfire while the crowd screamed-- “witch! Burn witch!” -- watching me die. My last muscle to contract brought a smile to my face: time to be with you again has come.

Years passed…. centuries passed, and we were born again, this time separated by the ocean. I could not remind me of anything, until a war has begun. I heard in the news that troops have arrived to that almost sacred soil, and I knew immediately that something big was close to stab on my chest. My heart exploded and I didn’t know why. Tears fell down my face as a warning that a great warrior was back to a holy battle.

Again, I was impotent.

That war has never ended and even though my heart told me that you were safe, I couldn’t help myself from crossing the ocean to look for my lost warrior. I traveled, I wandered, and I looked up every corner of the world, but I didn’t really know what I was looking for.

Then, one night, I was with friends in a bar and I felt the perfume of scented oils, wood and smoke. That made me dizzy but nobody else could feel. Suddenly, the place’s door opened bringing the cold air of the winter, smelling like perfume and blood, as your clothes used to, when washed in the river.

So I finally found you, my knight. My man was back!

Your eyes shined when you saw me. Your blond beard, your tanned skin, your sparkling smile, and your white shirt glistening as your armor…Then I remembered your kiss on our cabin’s door, your hands lifting up my dress, you taking me in your arms like it would be the last time. Every time as the last time…

So now we kiss… and our souls rejoice for they will never be apart again.”

Dry the tears…deep breath…someone call the psychiatrist.



December 2005

I wonder…

What do you see when you open your eyes in the morning?
What do you eat for breakfast?
How do you like your coffee?
Who is that on the phone when it rings during the day?

When you wake up in the middle of the night, do you walk barefoot to the kitchen?
What do you think about when you are in bed staring at the ceiling lamp?

Do you sing in the shower?
Do you put on some music?
Do you dress up in the bathroom or you go to your room, and you wet the floor, and throw the wet towel on your bed?
Do you talk to yourself in the mirror? What do you say?

What is your favorite dish?
Do you like sushi?
Sea food?
Pasta?
Meat?
Would you split a salad with me?

What do you see through your window?
What kind of objects decorates your living room?
What's the last thing you do before leaving home?

What kind of music do you listen to when you drive?

When you get home, do you watch TV?
Do you read a book? Do you get online?
When you open your e-mail box, are you expecting for something special ?
What kind of e-mail you delete?

What you totally dislike?
What do you think when you are alone in the dark?
What is that you dream about?
What’s your last thought before closing your eyes?


What do you want?
What do you wish?
What do you crave for?
What do you miss?


Which one of your answers would bring you to me?

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