Days, months and years when I thought I might have been dead, without you, without my own self that has forgotten how to speak and read. The books pile up before me, my own personal copies from the libraries, here, this and that yet I cannot read a line or understood a thing, a sort of glass-eyedness has taken possession of me. I feel that I need to get away, move out, create a new life but feel sad because I am no longer able to read the print before me, glass-eyed I sadly sit and stare out of the window, thinking of botched goodbyes and unpleasant endings to love stories.
But the memory of love that we shared then reaches out to me and I am glad that it was the best thing that happened to me in life.
