For a moment lost in translation, the heart becomes desolate and meaningless words struggle to make an impression. The words that fall into empty spaces between you and I are as empty as my courage and your suitcases. But they crawl back into my mouth letter by letter, covered in filth, and looking uncouth. And as they linger in contemplation, I am afraid if they will ever reach their desired destination. But I know it in my heart and hope you will understand too that the journey is more important than the end or the start. So they wash the stain and embark again on the greatest journey we have ever taken.
Once, we were lovers lost in the maze of crumpled bedsheets, new wine, and old books; discovering each other’s body like two mice in an infinite maze. Once, I remember we ran as if the wind was at our heels; dodging the corpses scattered on the streets like addicts after a rave party. Once, we laughed like teenagers tripping on acid; up we went like two balloons until our heads poked the clouds. Once, we cried, or one of us did, as if the world had abandoned us. And all that was left was a murdering silence. Once, the world collapsed on our feeble chests; we quietly died underneath the weight of duty. Once, we were children; we played little games and acted big; unaware of our innocence until they got tainted and maimed. Once, we were dreamers; on ordinary skies we built ornate palaces and in empty pockets we filled simple memories. Once, when we were lovers life felt like life and nothing else.