The house no longer stands where it stood. No longer does the sky seem that awful shade of pale grey. The ground seems firmer as I tread forward. I can see her standing by the waterside, and I no longer feel the tears well up. I look at her and I feel proud and happy, I feel as if I've finally done right by her. She stands there singing at the waterside, and I walk towards her.
I see her face again, and I can see that she is proud of me. And she stretches out her arms and hugs me. "Its been too long again." I say, while hugging her. She doesn't say anything back, but that doesn't matter. "I'm proud of you." She says, "You've come so far." It felt so long ago that I could hardly remember the sound of her voice.
I open the drawer, and pick up the letters. The letters that make me cry. The letters that make me feel sad and happy at the same time. They speak to me, as if in her voice:
"Make sure you are happy in your life. That is the most important thing, don't let anything stand in the way of that, and dont let anyone ever tell you that there is something more important in the world. I want you to be happy, as happy as I have been. I want you to find a purpose in your life, and make it matter. Live a healthy life, and dont work too much. Make sure you create the time to do the things you love. And above all I hope you find someone that makes you happy, dont you ever let something stand in the way of that. Promise me that you will do as I say, because I love you, even though I wont be there to be part of it, I will always be there with you."
There are no more tears in my eyes. Nothing but happiness overcomes me. I know I made her proud.
She lets go of me, and I know it is time to say goodbye again. "I see that you are happy." She tells me softly. "I am, for the first time in a long time I feel so happy. She makes everything so much better. Her eyes make me feel like I can take on the world, the way she looks at me makes me feel like I can move a mountain. I dont think I have ever felt this in love before. It feels so magical." And as I look up again, she is no longer there. Further up the darkness of the sky guides me, and light of the stars engulfs me.
As I open my eyes again, she stands before me in all her beauty. I love you, she tells me so playfully. The butterflies in my stomach make me feel lost. And I love her even more. Forever and always.
I want to be the picture on your wall I want to chase you around until we fall I want to be the one you write about I want to be the one who never lets you down
The gentle tread of the candle's flame, Casts but frail images of your reign, Over me, over memories once adored, Of empathy you once poured.
Those eyes don't welcome me as they once did, No longer do they long for me, amid, Loud troops of folly and indignant spirits, Welcoming me, as their only merits.
That warm embrace, I do again implore, To be lifted, to be enthralled, or, Simply say that we were meant to be we, Lovers, Friends, anything but indifferent to me.
It sits on the chair before me. And I like it there. We've been friends for as long as I can remember. Yes, friends. Probably something more than just friends. I can't imagine my life without it. It's there whenever I need it, and has never left my side. It's there when I'm happy, It's there when I'm sad. When I'm sad, it keeps me from falling completely, when I'm happy, it keeps me from turning manic. It takes off the tops and stuffs all the lows.
It's brutal how I've come to love it, given that I used to hate it. It has become part of me. It's there when I wake up, and stays with me when I go to sleep. It has shared each and every experience with me, for the past 6 years. It lifted me up from the darkest of places, and shot me down from the highest hills. It sits before me day by day, and keeps me busy. It speaks to me and I to it. It listens to me, and I to it. It understands me, and I it. It, is hard to describe. It, is waking up feeling nothing, going about your day, and falling asleep feeling nothing. It, makes you not remember your dreams. It, makes sure you never live them. It, makes you resent it, but in a melancholic way, you can't fathom being apart. It greets all unhappy with the same indifference. It greets all pain with the same numbness. It is a shoulder to cry on, it's a soothing lullaby. It shuns all happy with the same disregard. It blocks out all love and happiness the same.
I look at it, and it at me. It is my demon. It sits motionless, emotionless. "Haven't we grown apart already?" I say fiendishly, trying to gauge any response, to no avail. "Haven't you destroyed enough yet?" "Have you not taken from me, the things I hold most dear?" Vehemently questioning, the barrage of accusations was relentless, but it did not budge. I could feel the anger and pain flow through me. Wave after wave crashing, until the tears streamed down my face and I collapsed to my knees. As I fall, it lifts itself from the chair, and reaches out its hand to me. It helps me up, and I feel the dread leave my body. It hugs me and I feel safe, and it sits back down again.
"I can't leave yet." It says. I know, I think to myself, and I know it knows too. "I need her.", I say, as my voice turns brittle. "No you don't. You don't need her. You rushed in too fast. Emotion struck. It didn't work out. It happens." "But it felt so real. It feels so real. That simple feeling of being loved, is so addictive. It's so exhilarating, enthralling."
"All that's left now is an awkward greeting, everything I liked about her is gone, and I want it back. To just pretend as if these last two weeks didn't happen, won't happen and will never happen. I miss her. I miss her personality, the way she lifted me off my feet. I miss the way her eyes stared into mine, and how her smile made me fearless. How her touch took away all of my insecurity, and replaced it with a warmth of her own."
It made no intention of talking, it had no reason to. It understood, and that was all I needed.
"What a strange being you are, God knows where I'd be, If you hadn't found me, Sitting all alone in the dark."
I never thought I'd return to this place. I swore I wouldn't return to
this place. It's still right how I left it, the cabin scorched and
uninhabitable from the fire I set. I had burned all my bridges. Following
the pathway I once created - many, many a time ago - I reach the
calming water clashing with the wooden dock. I had always loved this
part of the island. The beautiful cove that stretched a mile of land,
and the most beautiful beach that coated it. I noticed a fire burning at
the far leftmost end I could see, with a small cabin, much smaller than
the one we used to live in.
The rain starts pouring on my walk
towards the cabin, and the fire has long gone out. Soaking wet, I throw
my jacket against the logs on the floor. The warmth engulfs me, and I am
fast asleep. I dream of the days I spent here, of the years I spent
here, of the eternity. Before I know it, a voice penetrates the warmth,
my eyes open slowly, fighting against the light of the sun seeping
through the wooden logs that make up the walls of this cabin.
"Did you get some sleep?" The voice asked. "I could tell that you were tired." The sound of her voice immediately caused me to choke up, and before I could even utter a response, she continued, "You've changed a lot, I can see."
"I...I have missed you. So, so much." I said, with tears streaming down
my face. And as I turned towards the voice, there was nothing there but
the soft ember in the makeshift fireplace. But as I blinked and closed
my eyes, she spoke again. "I'm always here, you know that. All you
have to do is close your eyes and talk to me. And I'll listen. You know
this place is only meant to be a last resort." I knew that, I thought to myself. I couldn't say anything. My eyes were fixed on the ember in the fireplace.
"I
feel so alone, I feel so tired." I said softly. "I've been changing, I
look better, but I feel like complete garbage. My mind is on race
constantly. Thinking, shaping, wondering, haunting. I wonder why things
just can't be easy. I wonder why it always has to be hard for me.
Everything seems to work out for them, and never for me." As I close my
eyes, I feel her arm embrace me. "You're strong, and you're loved. By me, and by those around you." She speaks with the kindest and warm tone.
"You have to try to let go. Let go of the pain, and the struggle. Let
go of the bad images, and fill your heart with happiness. You've
changed, and you look amazing. It's all in your head, just let it go."
"I know it's all just in my head. I know it's all just a mental game.
But that doesn't make it any easier. I look into a mirror and hate what I
see. I look at myself as a person and feel unhappy. It's such a burden..."
"I've
met someone." I tell her, "She's amazing. She takes away all these
insecurities. She takes away all the vulnerability and replaces it with a
new one of her own. A warmth, a glow. I feel safe around her. It's addictive, when I'm
not around her, I want to be near her. I want to see her, feel her. I
want her to embrace me and tell me that she likes me." Before I can
continue she interrupts, "She sounds amazing," with a smile that makes
me feel proud and warm. "But for some reason, it just seems like it's
not meant to be. I want her to feel it's meant to be. I want her to feel
the warmth I feel when I see her. But I can't make that happen, there
is nothing that I can do to make that happen. And that hurts, more than
anything in the world." I feel her take my hand and she says "Some of us get dipped in flat, some in satin, some in gloss; but every
once in a while, you find someone who's iridescent, and once you do, nothing will ever compare. Do you really like her?" "More than anything." I say firmly. "Then you should go for her, go after her, and do what your heart tells you."
The light of day has gone, the warmth of the embers has faded. I sit alone in a room with my thoughts. Her voice sounds "Maybe it's time for you to go again. You shouldn't stay here for so long, you're doing great." "For the first time, I think I agree. For the first time I've wanted to leave this place." "It will always be here, I will always be here. Whenever you need that little something more." I turn my head and want to hug her, but she's not there. And as I turn my head the other way, the dimly lit room is fades into a bright well lit living room. And I hear myself say "Close your eyes. Maybe all you need, is to stop thinking so much. Maybe you have to just let go." And as I feel her hand clench onto my chest, we kiss. All of my insecurities are lifted, she replaces all of it with her person.
And when we sleep at night I hope that we write novels in our heads of what to tell the other when we wake. And when morning comes before were done with volumes left to chose lets say I love you.. Just I love you. I love you. and I love you too.
"Do you think," I asked her, "there are some people who are connected? People that fate decided would stay together, one way or another? No matter how long you've been apart, or how long you haven't talked, when you meet again, it will be as if all has perpetuated, as if you still had the same connection you once did?" -"I don't know, I have never...", She said, before I interrupted her. "I have. I will have her." -"You are an idiot Paris, you will never have her." She screamed, as he walked away from Aphrodite.
The water as well as the wind slash my hands and face as I trail my hand through the surface of the little creek that breaks up the garden. The sun is still young, and leers lowly over the hills in the distance. The sky as if the blue was fighting the orange hue of the sun. The lights of the cottage house are still out, there is no light, no noise, nothing but peace. I return inside to a warm cup of tea, and almost completely forget about her for just a minute.
"I'm sorry, but I cannot choose you, Hera. You are not the most beautiful woman." He spoke, as she trailed her hand alongside his face. - "Prince, I offer you reign of all of Europe's richness. Of all its women and gold, even Asia I will present you." She pleaded him. "I cannot lie to your husband, he will end me. Zeus does not take lightly to a liar." Although her face could not hide her lament, she let him go, and dropped into the warm waters of Mount Ida again. -"She is such a drag." Athena said, as she emerged from the hot waters. "To offer you a kingdom!" She jestingly went on, "My Paris, I offer you all knowledge in the world. To eat the fruit of knowledge, is my gift to you. Your name will be known in all populations, everyone will speak of the great Paris of Troy. Your battles will forever be victorious, not one drop of blood of your army will spill on itself. I will make it so that..." "Athena, please." He argued, "I care not for glory in battle, or fame across the realm or endless knowledge. I will not lie to your husband for you." -"He still hasn't learned, sister." she exclaimed, fiendishly glancing at Hera. -"Leave him be and rejoin me." Only a few rocks away, Aphrodite sat perched on a protruding rock, drying from the hot spring, gazing over Troy. "Are you not going to try to convince me like your sisters did, Aphrodite?" -"There is no need for that, my fair Paris. I already have what you seek, and I will give it to you, if you tell Zeus that you truly think I am the prettiest." "I don't seek gold or glory, I already am a prince. What could you possibly give me?" -"I will give you what you've always wanted, I will give you her. Helena will be yours." "I guess it is true after all, you are the most beautiful woman, in all of the worlds."
She's perfect. Her eyes, they always make my head go crazy. When she speaks, I can't help but stare. She makes my mind wander on endlessly when I look at her. I've been walking for almost two hours now, and I still cannot get her out of my head.
I'm gonna break down these walls I built around myself.
I wanna fall so in love, (so in love) with you, and no one else,
Could ever mean half as much, to me as you do now.
Together we'll move on, just don't turn around,
Let the walls break down.
I find myself staring. It would be hard not to. Everything and everyone is moving, wondering, laughing. My world is immovably focused on her. As time passes, she haphazardly glances at me. I flinch, and try not to look too caught off guard. But she notices, smiles, and wanders on in her mind, and in mine. There's something special about infatuation. She is ravishingly beautiful. It feels as if we've already spent an eternity together. It feels as if we belong together. It feels like we've always been together, and always will be. And right as I'm being engulfed by pure, eternal, love...
Woken up by the sunlight seeping in between the cracks of the ceiling, he makes his way towards the table in the center of the room. From the old bookcase, he picks up the first book he can reach and places it at the round table. He starts up a small fire and boils some water with leaves from the garden, neatly tied together. The smell of tea fills each and every corner of the wooden house. As he sits down and takes his first sip, he hears her coughing from the bedroom. He brings her a few slices of bread and some tea, and sits by her side.
I miss her already, I think to myself, as the rain trails along my forehead. There is no telling when we will meet again.
Maybe...you'll fall in love with me all over again." "Hell," I said, "I love you enough now. What do you want to do? Ruin me?" "Yes. I want to ruin you." "Good," I said. "That's what I want too.
In my hand I hold a six of spades, and an eight of clubs. I look around and watch them play. The sun, relentlessly trying to break my concentration, to no avail. A drop of sweat makes its way onto my brow. I pass the ante and there's the flop.
A six of diamonds, a six of hearts, the King of diamonds.
I raise 100. Fold. Fold. Fold. Call. She calls, and I look at her, but our eyes don't meet. And then the turn.
The ace of hearts.
I see her eyes widen, and she goes all-in. I look at her again. All she is focused on, is the game and the cards in front of her. I call, and so the river falls.
An eight of hearts.
I look at her. She looks back, and I am lost. She looks right at me, right through me, and no longer can I resist or focus on anything but her.
And as I blink, I remember. I remember the house, that no longer is. The dock that once cradled my feet in the clearest of waters. None of that remains. This is the same place, it's the same feeling. No longer can I see the hill with the tombstone, or the field with the trees. I'm standing on a redstone floor. Redstone laid out in the most perfect of patterns. On the horizon, I see buildings that weren't there before. Here even more, the sun lashes at my feet and arms. As I reach the first house I sit down in the shade and catch my breath.
"Come on, make a move.", I hear her say as I open my eyes again. But I can't. I'm stunned, I'm there. Her eyes are still locked onto mine. The few seconds that pass seem like an eternity. And I blink again.
I am pulled away, back onto the shaded pedestal. The dust clings to my hands and feet. I remember the old man that I never said goodbye to. I remember the graves where they have. None of that remains. All I can see is the sun, dancing through the space with the whitest clouds. And in the distance I see her. In sunglasses and shorts, she walks over the dusty road. Gusts of dust follow her feet everywhere she goes.
Through the gusts and wind, my eyes open again. "What do you have?" I ask tentatively. And she reveals her hand. A king of clubs, an ace of diamonds, as she speaks the same words. Her smiling eyes have shifted, to the most beautiful of smiles. My eyes find no firm ground between her eyes and my cards. I glance back at my full house, and back at her beaming eyes. My heart skips a beat. I look at her, she shyly smiles.
Fold.
Her hand trails alongside my shoulder and I hold her closer to me. Night has fallen and she sits there with me. On the small patches of grass that separate the rocky surface, we lay down our heads. We look at each other, and at the stars, naming them and the clouds. Her soothing voice guides them to their safest haven.
She looks at me with a hint of smug and kindness. And I say nothing, for I am lost.
"You'll meet many girls along the way son, too many to count. There are the ones you'll dance with, the ones you'll kiss. But then there's that special one. The one you name stars with."
Another morning breaks dawn, another morning alone he wakes. He grabs one of his books, and sits down. When he reads he is reminded how odiously perfect the words he is reading are. They predict, they enthrall, they tell stories and lies. "Baudelaire", He hears but is not bothered. He picks up his book and goes inside, takes a small glove box from the highest shelf, and makes his way over the beach to the rampant nature.
Perched on a protruding rock sits the old man, clad in timeworn linen. In his left hand he holds a lighter and a batch of letters, in his right, his old army pistol. The happiness has made way for thought and reason. He flicks through the letters, picking up the first one, tossing the remaining ones to his side. As tears slowly roll down his cheek, he reads each word, each sentence as if he had never read them before.
"This place is madness, Nicole. Remembered, I am, every day by the sorrow we've bestowed upon each other and the sorrow we've all experienced in this world. You imagine not how strong I long for you my love, for the things I've seen here hurt so much. [...] Do you remember when we were young, we would live life carelessly, and tackle every burden on our path. Again I must say goodbye, but remember that soon we will be back together.
See you soon, Forever and Always, J.
May 11th, 1940, Gembloux, Belgium."
Trembling in his hand, the lighter burns away at the letter, until nothing more than charred earth remains at his feet. Letter after letter falls, drowning in the void that is the fire, until but one sheet remains. From the small box he takes a pen, chucks the cap away, and writes.
"So long it has been since I've been able to see you, to feel or hear you. It hurts so much to think that each day I forget more of who you are. Some days I can hardly remember your voice, the clothes you wore, the touch of your hand in mine. Each night I dream and I am tortured, for I know I cannot retrieve what I lost, not even here. Every night I speak to you, I tell you what kept me going, and you listen. I know you always asked me to never give up, but I have fought long and hard in my life, and this is a battle I cannot fathom winning on my own. When we meet again, only then, will I be happy again. All the hardship will be long gone, when my hand will rest in yours again. [...]
See you soon, Forever and Always, J."
Tears pouring down his cheeks, he lays down his pen and throws the letter into the fire. From his left hand, he removes the ring that's been there since forever, and casts it into the sea. Fumbling his hands, he picks up the gun and loads it. He puts it to his head and looks up.
Bang.
"There
are times when the mind is dealt such a blow it hides itself in
insanity. There are times when reality is nothing but pain, and to
escape that pain, the mind must leave reality behind."
It has been about 2 weeks since I have seen my grandfather since he has left. Life alone has its perks. On the other hand, playing chess against yourself only gets you so far. The majority of my days are filled with laying on the beach. The clouds tell stories, an infinite number of times. I've been growing more and more detached with everything. I hardly think about the life I used to have before I came here.
It's in the early days of May, and my birthday is coming up. Equipped with a shovel and some string and wood, I make my way up to the hill where my grandfather buried - the memory of - her all these years ago. At the top of the hill lies a beautiful grass plain, and I make my way to where I'm heading. Her grave looks as if it hasn't aged a year, as the memory he kept for all these years. "In memoriam Nicole - Difficile longum subito deponere amorem. Tempus fugit, amor manet." I read from the improvised tombstone, engraved with what I think was a chisel. I tidy up the grime that has collected in the weeks my grandfather hasn't been here. I place back upright the tilted clay vase, pick a flower from the nearby field, and place it in. Next to hers, I place his. From the little scraps of Latin I remember, I carve "Semper una".
My grandfather always used to tell me that even though she had passed away long ago, they still talked. He would tell her how his day went, he would tell her how much he loved her. And even though she never replied, it made him feel whole again. During that small period of time, he would feel happy again, because he would be with her. I used to never understand when he told me, I thought he was going crazy. As I grew up, as I loved, as I lost, I understood. I came to understand the pain and the healing.
Leaving the graves, I walked for a couple of minutes up until I made my way up to the cliff side. As I stood there, towering over the gaping ocean, I felt powerless. I felt weak, but amazed at the same time. I sat down, my feet dangling over 200 feet of nothingness. I closed my eyes, and as if a stroke of wind, I felt something touch my shoulder. I flinched and looking, but there was nothing. I closed my eyes again and then I heard the voice I'd missed for so long.
"It's been so long," the voice whispered, "you cannot believe how much I've missed you." And as if lightning struck I started crying. I sat there for what felt like an eternity, crying my eyes out. "Don't cry," she said "there was a time for that and it has long gone." And in my mind she wiped the tears from my eyes, and looked at me. And even though she wasn't there, it was as if she stood right before me. -"I've had to miss you. For so much. For all this time. For all what has happened. It's just so unfair." I said almost angrily, twisting the grass between my fingers. "I feel I have done so wrong by you. I never wanted to listen to anything. I wanted to push it out when all you really needed was me. I wanted to act as if it wasn't real." "I know you did." She said, and I felt a warmth come over me as if her smile made it all alright again. "You were a kid, you were my kid," she said jokingly, "how could I ever blame you for that. It's not something you should ever have to suffer through."
We spent the next hour or so talking about what we should've talked about so many years ago. It was as if all the sorrow was gone from the world I was in. There were no more bridges. No more barriers. The bridges had been burnt, the barriers crossed. After a long silence, she spoke again. "I believe this place has finally served its purpose, no?" -"What do you mean?" "It has matured you. You have moved on from the sadness. Maybe it's time to say goodbye again." -"I don't want to. I'll never get to see you again." "Hasn't your grandfather told you anything? Whenever you need me, I'll be listening, just talk to me." She sad complacently. -"So then how do I get away from here?" "Sometimes all you need a little push to get where your going to end up." A loud bang startled me, and as I tried to look back I lose my grip on the edge of the cliff. I fell. I closed my eyes again and came to terms with it.
As a chill went through me I opened my eyes again. I'm sitting on a park bench. I gaze out to the stars when suddenly. -"What are you thinking about?"I heard, looking at the pond in front of us "The behaviour of ducks." I say stupidly. She smiles, and as she does she grips my hand even more firmly. I look at her for a while and say nothing. We sit there, and even though we don't talk, it feels like nothing I have ever had before. It feels just right. No awkwardness. For the first time since all this shit started happening, I felt happy again. A feeling I hadn't felt for so long. Right there, the night could've stopped. Right there and then.
The tragedy of this world is that no one is happy, whether stuck in a time of pain or of joy. - Alan Lightman
Winter. Shards of ice burn into my forehead like tiny pellets of buckshot. The icy winds feel like razorblades shredding their way through my skin. This time of year yields solemnness. Everyone is closed, the willows just weep that little bit more. The beauty of snow untouched, the disgust of disturbance. The snow covers everything and everyone. Nothing is the same.
Tired, I take the bus home. Getting off three stops early, I'm forced to take the long road home, trailing through the park. My feet are frozen, my fingertips frostbitten. Yet all of it fades as before me lie white fields of pure beauty. Of pure calm. Ignoring most of the scenery, i stumble and almost fall, and stop at a fence, surrounding a frozen lake. Climbing over the fence with my mind set on autopilot, I get down on a small stretch of land separating me from the lake. I tread on the ice with the utmost care, and as my feet touches the ice, the lighting post flares, my eyes closing to shut out the light.
I stumble backwards while shielding my eyes from the light that seems to have gone. I crash my feet against pebbles, making the most gruesome sound amidst the silence. As the rocks make way for my feet, they are soaked in the ice cold water of the sea. I make my way back, tripping and falling backwards with only the snow breaking my fall. The moonlight being reflected by the white snow lights up everything as if it were noon. A small house at the end of a simple man made pier lies ahead. A boat lies tethered with a short rope, looking awfully beyond repair. I make my way to the house and see no one, the door is open, I go in and heat up in front of the fireplace. I fall asleep, and sleep like a baby.
I wake up by the gleams of sun being amplified by the ceiling glass. I get up from the rug at the now cindering fireplace and walk into the next room. At the table, sits an aged man. Late fifties, already balding at the top of his head. At first I don't recognize him. But as I reach the far side of the table, and see his face, I remember him. He's my grandfather. He's the man I remember from my oldest memories. A strong, tall man, caring and sweet. He taught me how to think, to play chess, to play cards. To reason logically. Most of the memories I have of him are those of him and his wife. Life, for him, ended when she passed away from cancer. He gestures me to sit down, and as I do he picks up a plastic bag. And all of a sudden I remember, as if it has been yesterday. The bag contained copper and tin chess pieces. The ones we used to play with every Wednesday, after he had picked me up from school.
"White goes first." he says, and moves his pawn forward. I'm having the time of my life, reliving my childhood memories. I wasn't ever able to beat him, at least not that I remember. He was always great at things like this, and taught me them as well. "Check and mate" he says, and I lay down my king. "Best two out of three?" I say tentatively. "Maybe tomorrow, I'm going for a walk now, I'll be back around dinner time." He says while grabbing his coat and moves towards the door. Winter has mostly gone, give today was particularly cold.
After having played through an uncountable amount of games the next day, winning none, I decide to finally ask him. "Why isn't she here? I'd reckon it would be possible here, even though I have no idea what this is." -"Alas, you aren't given what you aren't entitled to." "What do you mean?" -"I've done some bad things as well, I guess it's a sort of karma. Having to live here without her for so long." "I'm sorry..." -"Don't be. She used to live here with me, but she was taken from me. She died of an infection a long time ago, I don't remember how long it has been." -"I still talk to her every day, I buried her over the hill, close to the mountain cliff. I guess that was my repentance for my wronging." -"This place is beautiful, more beautiful than anything you will ever experience in your life. Cherish the time you have here, it does not come cheap nor frequent. It's a last resort. A lifeline. It saved me. It gave me the strength to hang on after she had passed away when you were still young." -"We should go to sleep, sun has already set." Not knowing what to say, I just said I'd go for a walk and left the cabin. The sand crunched between my toes. The sea is roaring, spring is taking grasp of the trees. Flowers are sprouting from the dense forest trenches. I'm heading for infinity, sun has just set and I decided to check how long the beach actually goes on for. While the sea bashes into the beach, it carries something perfect among it. Something serene and yet powerful. Devastating and constructing. The sublime. Perfect stasis. Happiness. Perfection. The sun is still hidden when I see the cabin again in the distance. Tired I go back to bed, dreaming of what is to come.
My grandfather is already awake when I wake up. He's sitting on the front porch, reading.
Usant à l'envi leurs chaleurs dernières, Nos deux curs seront deux vastes flambeaux, Qui réfléchiront leurs doubles lumières Dans nos deux esprits, ces miroirs jumeaux.
"Baudelaire," I say, "The flowers of evil." He looks up and smiles, and continues reading. I go back inside and look on the bookshelf. I chose L'étranger, by Camus, and made my way to the beach. When I go back inside to get something to drink, my grandfather is no longer there. There is a notepad with scribbling on it that I miss when going for the bottle of water on the kitchen table. As if startled by the sound of bang, or the come of Spring, Winter has finally gone.
