Once there were clothes hanging in a shared closet, witnesses to a sense of permanence, observers of the solidity of dreams woven together by two fellow needles.
Once there were books lying on a shared shelf, photographs kept in a shared drawer, songs that contained a meaning only to those who have listened to them together. With togetherness.
Once there was a silence which didn´t need statements as it could grasp understanding out of thin air.
Once there were hopeful eyes that could gaze into an unknown future and yet be bright with the colours of a yet to come tranquility of lives fixed with the glue of affection. Lives of shared closets, shelves, drawers, books, songs, hidden meaning words, secret meaning gestures and furtive dialect understood only by those two shared souls who created it.
Once there was.
Today a cold wind blows and embraces me and urges me. And demands that I go as there must be a place where I fit. Where life isn´t shared but where wholeness is. Undivided, intact, all I can do is but follow.
14 years ago
