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I met her only recently
He told me she became obsessed with deserts
She laughed
When they left
it took me two weeks to restore my order
She seemed to be well considered and
without any determination at the same time.
I wondered if it was her attempt
to let things go.
He wrote to me
Is it true that there is no such thing
as a missed opportunity?
Is it so that our future is constantly rewritten
by the past?
What do you think of disappearing?
I asked her.
She laughed again. And pointing at a strange structure
he whispered, not yet.
Where have you been?
In a place I hardly remember.
I sent you a postcard written with blue ballpoint pen.
When you talk about structures what do you mean?
What else to write if I am only exhausted trying to respire?
He said that in the end all these constructions proved to be insubstantial.
Meaningless.
You have to move beyond. And refocus.
I was surprised when I discovered
he couldn't remember his childhood.
Not a single story.
What a relief, she thought and then
she said: Mir doch egal!
He wrote again. A boring postcard.
That he hates chaos and loves honesty.
I had to think about it over and over. It felt like a curse.
She wants to find herself again.
A home. For her own. Love and work included.
(the next one goes out to corky burger)
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