I try to think of simpler times but the truth is I can not. Perhaps it's because of the merciless heat that drains even the nights from the simplicity of sleep; after all, the more tired I grow, the more disoriented I become. I seek to find a quiet refuge amidst all the concrete of the city. Having not a pair of arms waiting for me upon return and no person that I instinctively look out for, I try to run back to the solitude of my house as fast as possible. It is only during the early hours of the morning or very late at night that the streets feel welcoming and full of comfort. During those hours you can almost let the city lie to you that life and humans are not so cruel. But during the day every painful little detail stares at you with unflinching clarity. The knowledge of some personal luck somehow does not make up for all cracks you see around you.
Home sometimes offers an illusion, when in solitude time becomes slower, all you have to do is disconnect every device and suddenly the link with reality is severed, you can breathe for a while and pretend and act as if you're lonely so little that when you're alone you're merely gaining your energy back. Because even the people that used to be familiar, now their presence makes you lonely too.
Lately, when at home I have the tendency to turn off the music. I can remember a time when I couldn't sleep without music and now I often catch myself regarding music as more noise. It is amazing what a few years can do to you. Music has turned into something that I can no longer process. I find myself looking into different kind of speakers that I could buy for the house, I have wanted to get some for some time now but somehow the opportunity never arose or I was just too distracted spending my time otherwise. But now that listening to music has turned into this sporadic, almost esoteric, experience I feel I ought to at the very least do my part towards it.
At the same time, my headphones broke, the brand new ones and the first mildly expensive that I have bought in recent years and I find myself at a loss - though when alone I hardly listen to any music anymore, when I am on the street it is near impossible to go anywhere without music accompanying me. Somehow all the visual noise of the city becomes overwhelming when the added layer of its noise is added and my steps always falter a bit more when there is no music to cover it, walking to or across or just standing in place turns into a challenge. Music is kind of like the sea: it can both drown you and carry you along. In the past music was my main metric to measuring time; perhaps that is why I really stopped listening to it whenever I am alone: to stop counting minute after empty minute.
I try to learn to enjoy all the empty moments that come my way lately. It's a formidable task for emptiness of action means there much space left for thinking and I can never tell for sure when my brain turns into poison. I have nonetheless chosen not to shy away from it and all this introspection might actually blossom into something, perhaps even gift us with some fruits that will most likely turn out to be more questions. New things have emerged in general, sometimes thoughts and realizations come to us with the guise of guilt.
I realized I wanted to tell you that I am sorry. I think you made the right decision, though I'm not sure whether anyone ever truly, consciously chooses to fade out, I don't know if it were a concrete decision on your part of if you just let it happen, I remember when I decided that it was time to let you though. I remember when I decided I'd throw another stone down the quiet well hoping that this time I would year the impact with the water or the bottom. I was sitting in the hospital, that awful smell filling the rooms and corridors, I had to consciously refrain from sniffing my clothes to make sure that it didn't get absorbed on the thin fabric or worse by my skin. The smell did not stick around but all the memories rushed back, of other corridors and rooms, other hospitals, other years, other person lying on the bed. I was so hungry for you at that moment, I tried to replay in my head your laugh and to reconstruct by memory your eyes. I wanted for our existences to be side-by-side for a moment and I reached out and your response was honest in a way: the tone felt vaguely friendly but I could tell you were not there. And that was the moment that I let you.
All summers have been weird and difficult in the past few years, each one of them breaks me differently. I don't mind the cracks. This one is disappointing as well but somehow it does not hurt me, July and August have given me so much space all of a sudden, space from everything and everyone that I almost feel at peace. It's just that this summer is loaded with your presence, there are so many things that I wish I could show you. Silly, small, insignificant things. I hadn't expected you to stick around but I was hoping that somehow perhaps this time we would choose each other and work it out. And now I have this space and I would like to show it to you. I was thinking by the way, how nice it would be to drag a small mattress out in the balcony and pass out from the oppressive heat over there. The homemade lemonade would grow warm in the glasses next to the mattress, a small plate with olives and figs nearby. It is summer.
At noon the cicadas start their chorus, in the yard bellow you can hear the voices of the children until late at night.
