I’m on a train on the other side of the world. They don’t make them like this on our side. You are both farther than when I left yet closer from when you left. I hadn’t thought of that until this very moment.
It’s odd being the one who stays, that’s why I had to leave. Do not fret, I’m sure I’ll be back before you do.
The girl by my side started writing a letter while going through the Italian country, which made me think of writing this. I’m pretty sure we’re sharing a space with an Olympian too, but I can’t really ask her. I’m not familiar with the protocol to approach a suspected athlete.
It’s been a fun experiment trying to communicate without knowing the language. Making all sort of gestures and noises, and getting excited when they get you (or an idea of you). Maybe if I had started saying « I don’t speak your heart’s language », things would’ve been different. I see some understanding when they know I don’t get them, and yet I try.
Last night something unpleasant happened, and I was able to handle it better than when we both were together. It’s been so long now, that I dare say I have grown since we happened to each other. Not enough to reach you, or thinking of trying, though.
The girl at the shop in Barcelona warned me that their gummies would give me bad dreams. I’m not saying you were a bad one, but you showed up in my head. Longing to be who you wanted instead of being wanted by you in my current form, even if in the dream realm, may have been the nightmare part.
I’ve recently heard tales of cycles that some thought had ended, and yet the story continues. In a different time, in a different shape, but some more ink runs through old pages. I am sick of remakes and revivals, but wouldn’t mind if one of these roads led to moRe.
Ciao, bella.