I shift through flakes of memories which remind me of times lost, and which contains our moments crystallized with its imperfections. You have left me with snowflakes, snowflakes of your kindness which showered on me out of season.
The day i met you, i ran to the wishing well and dropped a sack full of old foreign coins, wishing that we get to meet quite often. The coins tossed down the ancient stone staircase and disappeared without a sound. I really wanted us to meet over and over again. I knew that like the coins, you'll flash through my life and vanish like a magician beckoning you over to an unknown realm. But I really wished I get to meet youagain
I was attracted to you. Not because your fish-shaped eyes were restless, looking hither and thither for some love and distraction, not because I wanted to sit by your head and caress your hair while you slept in someone else's arms, not because i wanted to imagine some warmth in your cold palms, not because you leaned against his face in the metro and I kept staring at the lines of my fate. No. Because I felt anxious about life with you.
I will forget the moments we sat opposite each other, measuring life out of coffee spoons, discussing who you should be with, in a romantically inclined fashion. I will forget how you have talked with all those people, simultaneously, people whom I felt jealous of, because I couldn't impress upon you as much as they did. I will forget all this because this might carry on and I might keep on feeling strangely moved,
You told me about your numerous relationships, the way a family destroys itself in an excessive act of love, about how you accepted the ego of men who brushed past you in thoughtless gestures. In all that you told me, I saw a mixture of satisfaction and uncertainty about the things you described. These dual states played out in your eyes, when you looked hard at the delicate porcelain cups or at the traffic that rush past us. I was holding your hand while we were crossing. You were watching death approaching. The roads circled around the old and the new city. We are alrady midway through those dangerous lanes when you stopped, undecided about which way to go. I tugged your hand and decided to sprint. You stood and smiled as automobiles of time hit you.
You told me about your numerous relationships, the way a family destroys itself in an excessive act of love, about how you accepted the ego of men who brushed past you in thoughtless gestures. In all that you told me, I saw a mixture of satisfaction and uncertainty about the things you described. These dual states played out in your eyes, when you looked hard at the delicate porcelain cups or at the traffic that rush past us. I was holding your hand while we were crossing. You were watching death approaching. The roads circled around the old and the new city. We are alrady midway through those dangerous lanes when you stopped, undecided about which way to go. I tugged your hand and decided to sprint. You stood and smiled as automobiles of time hit you.
