When I lost you I lost a whole world. Isn’t it staggering how we can numb ourselves and be able to dine, go for a walk, submerge our limbs underwater, trying to seal the pain inside until it cracks open again? In the intervals I relearn obvious things. That the earth travels around a big burning star and if I got too close it would melt my body. That my fingertips could melt wandering snowlakes if I stepped outside. That I cannot step out of my body. That the art created on Earth doesn’t stand still but it lifts up the veil that is darkness nestled on our souls. It also travels through air, by roads, clothed in glass, paper and plastic the canvases waiting to breathe in another year like a speck of dust, another million of eyes. I will see Monet, Degas, Cézanne, Gogh and whole collections of their impressions. It will move me.

I will never see you again. Your eyes that trusted, wondered and always loved. Always nothing less than love. I held you when I knew you would go in an hour or two and you hurt, wondered, trusted, loved and didn’t suspect a thing about the place that would make you lighter. An hour or two. How does one say goodbye forever? One doesn’t, one can’t. Words slipped my mouth drowning themselves in a meaningless waterfall and with your eyes still open you stopped being present and became a past. ‘In a better place now, in a better place now, in a better place now’…an echo resonating in the cave of my mind. I wish a palm could be pressed onto the strings to terminate all sounds escaping the awful mouths. No need to reply to voices ever again. The ground sleeps under snow, everything is silent. You sleep in the ground, there is no rythm to it, no need to listen if you breathe. So silent. I walk and the snow under me creaks and laughs under my clumsy feet, so human and loud. So alive.