11. clinging to apricots

Sometimes back in Greece, when summer got too hot and that heat scorched us, it would then proceed to play tricks on us, to tease us so to speak, and we’d blur and sigh, long for wonderful, wonderful days.

 

Toy Story and ice cream, the Sims 2 on Papa’s computer, the mid-200s that never seemed to fade, and in those days we felt immortal, despite knowing death quite well.

 

We’d bake just for the fun of it.

 

Messing up every single day but fixing it the next; feta and watermelon in Anna’s broad balcony. Childish fun, all before I met my two dear ladies (ladies of the night, red in all the wrong ways).

 

Maybe someday I’ll look upon these times as lovely and carefree, as they should be. Only I’m tainted, stalling, quietly reeking of thoughts. Maybe someday I’ll say that disgusting thing some day, “I used to be full of light, but life changed me!”. Yeah, that’s crap. Life can’t suck out the light from you. You are a light, the brightest of lights.

 

When spring comes to us I’ll welcome it with open arms, I shall be a child again, I’ll pluck poppies and run around in circles. The music will continue to thrill every bone in my body and I will fall in love. With myself, with life, my future, all those around me. To love myself. To love home. To climb out of the rabbit hole.

 

I like being in a world of my own where no one can tell me what to do, who to love, how to walk.

 

I have ressurected myself and I’ll walk as I please, thank you very much.

Mahler wrote, “with wings I have won for myself, in love’s fierce striving, I shall soar upwards, to the light which no eye has penetrated”.

 

That’s the idealism I own. I’ll fly upwards.

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