It was a cold morning,
it was the first awakening over those sheets,
there was coffee ready to fill our bodies,
there were aged buildings to fill our soul.
We walked the town,
we crossed their streets,
we felt alive.
There were crowded sites,
there were empty alleys,
there was food at each corner,
there was wine in our veins.
We were there,
side by side,
there we were happy,
there we were alive.
Rome, Italy, 2017.
to help me to remember what I felt,
to feel that sense of peace and calm,
to fill the need inside,
to feel alive again,
the courage, the fear,
the tears and the joy,
the silence and my own words.
Demain, dès l’aube, à l’heure où blanchit la campagne,
Je partirai. Vois-tu, je sais que tu m’attends.
J’irai par la forêt, j’irai par la montagne.
Je ne puis demeurer loin de toi plus longtemps.
— Victor Hugo
There are nightmares screaming from distance.
There are silences filling our words.
There are conversations.
There are pieces of peace.
There is the sky and the sea.
From the distance and the silence.
“She had the right idea, old man, don’t you think - to disappear before it gets too late?”