In a space that I cannot define and a time I can’t seem to forget there was this memory which seemed to fade but in fact was always there, scratching my brain once in a while.

Images and sounds come back to life when I lay my head to rest, they take over by night and consume all that I have built during the day.

I was young, I still feel that young, it’s just that my body doesn’t seem to agree with me, I can’t say if time or my own hands degraded my being so much, punishing me to live with all these demons and with all my vices taking my hand and leading the way.

I seem to be so far from where I once was…

It was hot and the scent of white roses seemed to invade me, it was a moment that even today seems eternal, it can’t be defined, only by that scent, by those expansive pictures and by those two chambers, filled with elegant and refined people, all looking sleek, and me.

I don’t know, even to this day, why I went …

“Contemporary art is finally proven worthy…”, “This touches you in ways you could never knew it was possible” – these were words flying next to my ear but never actually touching me.

I was already bored because I couldn’t assess the art, I couldn’t lose myself in the roses, there were too many people, too much noise and too much pretension.

Right when I decided to leave I noticed the painting, it couldn’t be real but there it was: the man I have dreamed ever since I was little, it was really him, described perfectly by the touch of that artist’s fingers.

I was now shaken, should I leave or should I stay?

But my questions were irrelevant when the man from the picture entered, surreal, charming and with a pair of dark eyes looking into the deepest corners of my soul…

He was real and that was something I didn’t knew how to deal with so I ran away, slowly enough to see the head of a lady next to his as he went along, far away from me…

My feet seemed slowly and my breath was choking me, my body trembled and my mind went blank.

I went into the dark with a pain I had no idea I could ever feel only to be stopped by a cold touch, should I turn around or should I run?

If I turn around maybe I’ll find happiness but if I continue to keep on moving maybe I’ll find MY SELF.


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