God grant me the serenity to accept the things I can not change
Courage to change the things I can
And the wisdom to know the difference
...
I should have hatred for you
But I do not have any
And I have always loved you
Oh you have taught me plenty
The whole time I'd never seen
All you had spread before me
The whole time I'd never seen
All I'd need was inside me
Now I feel so different
I feel so different
I feel so different
I feel so different
I feel so different
(Sinead O'Connor, 'I feel so different')
It's four years ago now that she met Olivier. They saw each other one and a half days in a little provincial town in Russia. I guess the effective time they spent together was maybe also around five hours. They walked on the frozen Wolga and sang 'Champs Elysees' as the sun was blistering in the cold. She showed him all the corners still so dear to her heart, all the streets in which she had learned how to speak russian. It was his first day in this huge melancholic country and he was heading for a very interesting and promising period of his life in which he wished to find to himself after having spent too many hours in the psychiatry and in dark corners, stoned, lost in himself.
This girl just opened all those doors for him. She introduced him in such an intimate and mind blowing way to this city which would be his home for the next months. All she did was crazy and unique and original. And he was up to it. They climbed a scaffold to watch the sunset and talked about how sex wasn't the most important thing about love. She was a virging back then, still, but of course he wouldn'T have guessed that. BUt it also didn't matter. Silently they inhaled the magic energy, saturated with setting sun rays...And they WERE, and they FELT, and I guess they KNEW...
When she left he was the last to say goodbye too. She slipped a little note into his hand and so did he and it was a fascinating moment of recognition when they realized that each had had the same idea, the same need. It was just an affirmation of what the first eyecontact had shown to him. It hadn'T shown anything to her though. I'd say it was due to her self hatred and her disbelief in what she wished most for which she had back then. With which she was constantly batteling...
She left and her heart was wide and big and pulsating like lava at the very core of volcanos. Glowing, viscous and powerful.
AS she was standing at the trainstation she suddenly heard a sound and her heart jumped right into her throat: it was him, with Steph, his friend from France, running up to her. Breathless he gasped: Djina, Djina, stay here with me. Please. I really want you to stay here. You must stay here. PLease. Please.
Shocked her mind backflipped. Zillions of possibilities what she could do. No one ever had asked her to stay in such a way before. No one had ever made the effort. The magic. Being a lunatic. Daring, risking, rebelling. Oh damn, damn, why oh why wasn't she a rebel. She always hated that about herself. She wished so much for being a rebel, a revolutionary, just like her gorgeous sister. Just like...like.... But...it all boiled down to the very somber and rational fact that she couldn't.
- At times love seems so much more intense and deep when it involves some sort of tragic. Romeo and Juliet. Tristan and Isolde. ... The tenderness they showed when they exchanged their scarfs to at least have something. The way he pressed his chewing gum in a last desperate move on the window through which she was looking with such a grief and joy in her heart she hadn't felt for a very very long time. The way they looked at each other as the train slowly left. The desperate attempt to hold it back by the mere power of eyesight and heartfelt desperate yearning for the unknown, the rediscovery...
The whole night on her way to St. Petersburg she hold on to his scarf and inhaled his odor like the most precious life giving essence....
It is blue and white. Striped.
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The mystery of this love has never vanished. The sweet mails were written in awe of what had happened. The yearning was so delicate and so lyrical and so tender and so cherishing.
It was food for her soul, shacked and tortured by her own mind. Transcendental sexual healing maybe.
The mystery and beauty of this love has never vanished because in its fragility and uniqueness it has never been conquered nor has it been defeated. It fell asleep but a few words on MSN would revive and resurrect it. Of course they wouldn'T talk about it. No, by no means. ONly reminiscing. Speaking the old magic words. The wisdom. The love. The usaid. Unwritten.
He lives in ENgland now. His English is so much better. His little stepson Leo is one of the sweetest little creatures in the world. As far as the pics show and what he tells about him every now and the. His girlfriend seems to be one courageous and strong woman. I guess she is exactly what he needed. At times they talk about how they would visit each other. None of them has made it yet. Although there was a lot talking going on about it. I guess they were both afraid of destroying it. Preservation is not progressive. It is preserving.
The mystery of this love, of this energy that was born one afternoon in 2001, march, Russia on a scaffold during a provincial town sunset never ceases.
Because they never had the chance to destroy or transform it.
So it transformed by itself but remained intact in itself. It was a moment they concquered from eternity for the price of never ever being able to retrieve it...
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I can not change
Courage to change the things I can
And the wisdom to know the difference
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of course I sometimes think that maybe we aren't supposed to meet again either.
there is still one day to live through to make this weekend complete. the weekend you were going to see me. you said I can bet on you wanting to see me again. Ewwww. I don'T bet about such things dear. I don't. It doesn'T mean any good. And indeed, it actually left a very bad feeling inside of me....but you have all the necessary facts. you know that I can be strong and help you not to cheat on your girlfriend (which you anyways did do already in a way! but i am not going to judge you on that). you know as well that I can'T take it if you don'T, at least, notify me if you change your mind or realize that you can't do that. Seeing me again. IT wouldn'T be that bad, if I hadn'T been treated like this before by someone I refer to as Mr. Asshole usually. You are NOT like him, I know that. You might have different reasons and I respect and appreciate them. I wish you have different ones. But I defended him back then, too. And I was always loyal. From day one. Tomorrow will be hard. It s so good that I work all day. It s so hurting to bury you and my hope before I even have the right or reason to do so. But I see me doing it, and I feel so sick doing it because I realize it is such an adult thing to do. A child would keep on hoping. And out of fear to being hurt too much I dig a hole already now and accomodate to the feared hypthetical facts.
However.... - I feel that this love can be transcending, too.
I should have hatred for you
But I do not have any
And I have always loved you
Oh you have taught me plenty
The whole time I'd never seen
All you had spread before me
The whole time I'd never seen
All I'd need was inside me
I ve seen it there.Today. It s there. Inside of me. And my love can be free.
Now I feel so different
I feel so different
I feel so different
I feel so different
I feel so different
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