Four years have flown by and as always I like you, perhaps even more so now.
I’m watching the rainfall, wind that creates tornadoes made up of flower petals and grey clouds that cover the skies. It’s been so long since we’ve last spoken, I’m not even sure that I would be able to talk. It’s hard to find the right words when for so long just our glances spoke for us. “How are you? What are you doing? What are you thinking?”. These are the first questions that I would ask you. If I close my eyes, the sound of the rainfall takes me to a faraway place. I go back to another time, years before when the cold and storms were are only enemies, our only fears. I still feel all that humidity that would penetrate my skin to make my bones ache. It’s the early afternoon, I didn’t know what to say, I wouldn’t know exactly what to say even now. I’m too stunned to know. I open my eyes, awoken from the thunder. I hear the noise of the rainfall and I smell the wet asphalt’s strong odor. I don’t know what day it is, being in the middle of a certain life path, all the days seem the same anyways. You are sleeping by my side, as always. The lucidity hurts me, along with this sense of feeling gross. How have I been reduced to this state? Why have I arrived to this point in my life? Why can’t I just stop all of this? Useless questions at this point, since we’ve been pedaling along in this situation for so long. On the road, the days hurt, imagine the months…. The years.
I’m sitting with my legs crossed on a piece of cardboard that we use as our bed. I caress your face and your bristly beard stings my hand. I quickly pull back and I burst into tears. I’m despaired because I don’t see an escape route or a way out of all this shit. The only thing that comes to my mind to shut everything off and forget the world is to get high.. Right away.
I reach out to wake you up, wetting my hand as I caress you once again. You are awake and crying just as I am. A chill races up my whole back, my eyes blink, I set everything that I see on fire, and in a moment’s time, I am back at San Patrignano, seated watching the rainfall outside of the door. I am safe, protected and in a warm place. I am alive. I smile and think that even if I miss you, even if with every day there is more difficulty, you are here too, and above all, you are alive too.
Elena
