There is this constant ache Tugging at his chest, A weight he just can’t shake.
As soon as I step in that room, I recognize the space. (…) The floors haven’t changed. They are still covered in the same antique cement tiles, where shades of blue, black and grey are shaping infinite graphic designs overlapping squares and interlacing stripes.
I recall (…) riding my bike to my Gran’s hotel, crossing the Place des Vosges, walking through the gates into the hotel’s courtyard, (…) She is standing right outside the wrought iron fence and seems engaged in a heated conversation. She moves to walk away as I step closer.
A whole piece of my evening is missing. Erased from my thoughts surgically, leaving a dark, gaping mouth in my memories. A mysterious black hole filled with untouchable matter I can’t see. An illusion of emptiness drawing me in, absorbing all of my attention…
She stepped onto the train, and readily began the process of unwrapping herself. *** Bags, down. Coat, unbuttoned, unzipped. Gracefully, she slips out of it. Scarf, untied, unrolled… …Unleashing her long mane of curly, dark blonde hair.
She invites me in and guides me to her office door. I had expected a dark interior, heavy velvet curtains, Louis XV furniture, old books and antique French tapestry. My imaginings could not have been further from reality.
With every step we took, every word we voiced, our bodies and souls expressed the joy we felt to have crossed paths. Though I would not admit it to her or anyone, deep down, I could already sense that we would be walking as one, from then on.
Warm drops of water are hitting my skin, massaging my flesh, bringing power to my mind and heat to my wintered body. With each pearly touch, my nerves loosen up. Cascading thoughts’ heat take me back to you. Soon enough my hands aren’t mine anymore. They are yours.
She (…) scrutinized me with the same serious look that had been glued to her face since the morning. (…) That look confirmed my gut feeling, before any of her words did. I hadn’t been imagining anything. There was something beyond the wall. And that something was somehow linked to me.
Wednesday, May 15th, 1907 I was strolling around in the Jardin des Tuileries, taking deep breaths in and out, trying to open my mind, to be aware of everything around me. I could find inspiration in children playing, people discussing, in the shape of trees, patches of grass and flowers around me.
“She loved those in-between moments, where worlds join and make everything possible. Precious instants that merge dreams and reality, building bridges, creating links she could not even see before.”
“It felt like a nothing disguising a something in hiding. My instinct was telling me there was something, or someone, watching me. It was right there in this wall. I did not know what it was. All I knew was what I could feel, and I was rarely wrong when my senses came to play.”