A HAND IN THE FOG

XVI

Looking at that picture she felt something different inside her.

It was a beautiful view from the terrace – of course not so beautiful as she used to joke with him about another perfect landscape – but even so a beautiful landscape.

The sea was blue. Some trees made shadow on the floor. Between the sea and the terrace there was some roofs and at the end just the sand and the sea.

They were far one from another at that time of the picture. Not only because of the kilometers. In kilometers it was a little bit less than the usual – just nine thousands, three hundreds and twenty-two kilometers. There were six hundreds kilometers less – but of course and for sorry – so much distance.

The climate put another point of difference.

He was in summer. She was in winter.

He was at the beach. She was inside home.

He was tan. She was grey.

She smiled at that moment.

Not only for the description of her skin but she remembered her summer time at the beach – for many years and so many years ago.

Summer for her it was like a smile – a free smile of a good surprise.

The sun was hot, very hot. She woke and changed clothes so fast like an emergency. The preferred beach it was so easy to go. She went always walking. A not so long hill separated her from her beach.

Early in the morning she went down the hill almost running. She had long hair at that time and the warm wind made it flies around her neck and shoulders. It was a delicious sensation. The way until the beach it was bordered the sea by a side and by elegant buildings at the other side.

She never looked at the buildings – only to the side of the sea – like a magnet. She walked with the head directed to the right side.

In the right side she could dream all she wanted – this is one of the best permissions that the sea gives for someone who looks at it. She went down the little hill like she was inside a cloud. That was she.

She constructed stories. She imagined different countries with the same sea. She guessed how many different languages were trying to dialogue. She almost could hear the sounds.

Sometimes small white waves made her look to a specific movement. Many boats slithered crossing from one place to another.

There was an island in front and close. When she looked at the island the feet stopped the run to the beach and walked slowly. During sunny days it was possible see the island sand. Wonderful. She began to think about what the people in the island could imagine about the people of the continent.

Downing that hill alone she constructed a wonderful private world and when she finally arrived at her preferred beach it was like she had traveled for days or months. And it was only fifteen or twenty minutes walking.

And the same happened every day in this way to the beach. But not the same stories – at each day a detail changed the story inside her mind.

She looked at all that landscape like it was part of her body. Since she was born – or since a memory was born or created – who knows – inside her – she walked in this way to go to the beach. She was grown there.

Finally at the beach – when she sat on the hot sand and after went to feel the warm water around her skin – it was a sensation like she was re-born. She loved be inside the water, she loved walk with no sandal on the sand. The wind around her it was such a pleasure that she stopped her walking many times just to feel the wind on the skin.

But the most delicious it was walk on the sand at the end of the day. The sand was soft because many people walked during the day. The water was clear and calm. The sunset was beautiful – the city was located on an isthmus so the sunshine and sunset was at the beach. The colors of the sky, the sea and the land were fascinating. Wonderful.

It was really a delicious time.

When she went up the hill back to her home – the head turned at this time to the left. And she went on with her dreams and imagination.

Now it was another time.

One day she moved from that city and her beach was there, without her. For many years she thought about the sea and the island. About what people was doing or if the landscape changed.

The beach and the route to the beach it was the only memories from the city that made her almost cry when she remembered both. At that time she never looked at the buildings – only to the side of the sea – like a magnet. She walked with the head directed to the right side.

Now in the new city – she just had buildings to look. And she was sadly surprise one day when she went to a city with beaches and turned her head to the buildings instead of the beach. Yes. She changed inside her self – maybe because she lost the routine or maybe because the routine was lost for her.

It is the Life pointing the behaviors.

And in that morning that they were so far one to another – he sent the picture from the terrace. He was there with his summer.

She looked at the photo many times during the day. At each new look – she discovered a new detail she had not saw.

She was at home alone and with cold. Outside the window it was a dense fog.

She sat and looked once more to the photo in the computer – and decided to print it.

Yes. An excellent idea – said her to herself.

She printed in the best and big style and put on the wall in front of the place she used to sit to write or to eat something.

Suddenly she felt as she was looking at the window – through the window.

She almost could feel the warm breeze and the sun’s heat. She could swear that she listened the calm sound of the summer waves.

And she felt him close – much close. She knew the position that he took the picture. She could see what he was looking. She could know also that he was standing on the terrace without his shirt and with short and flip. His hair was flying because of the wind. His knees slightly bent. She could feel the smell of his skin and the eroticized smell of his kiss.  And she was absolutely sure that he stopped in some moment to listen the sound of wind in the leaves of those trees that were advancing on the terrace. She knew that he loved that sound.

He took the picture for her – and she was so much happy because of this. Sometimes the most beautiful feature of a photo is to exchange absence in presence.

At this time she didn’t close her eyes to pretend be there. With her fingers touching so soft the picture she could breathe the summer as if had opened a window. And could touch him standing and with his hair flying – but in silence for not disturb the sound of the leaves.

Looking at this private window she smiled. She forgot for a while the nine thousands, three hundreds and twenty-two kilometers between them – he was beside her. And she remembered also her preferred beach without need the help of the tears. She was feeling almost the same light and sweet sensation as so many years ago she felt when went down on the hill to go to her preferred beach every day – all summer time.

She sent a kiss for him.

She turned suddenly her head in the opposite side of that window when the phone sounded.

It was another delightful surprise. She felt warmish. And for that moment there was no fog and no cold – just a magical hot day.

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A HAND IN THE FOG

XV

While she was waiting for him come back – some memories came to visit her. Sometimes the Memory surprised her – and the Past comes to sit by – to make her less lonely.

And she gave the permission and almost with hand by hand – Past and Present talked like good friends.

At that moment the Past began to talk about one morning when she was working.

She called the day of the concentration lost. She smiled. Yes. She loved put names or titles when a happening turned her head for another place. She never forgot all the years she had problems of concentration and considered her self cured.

He sent a message.

It was a surprise because he almost never wrote during the morning. He was working and she was working and he asked not to write messages because of the concentration – of course. She agreed partially. Sometimes she wrote but he answered with one or two words. She understood fast what was hide in the short answer and respected.

He was so polite and never said a hard word against these occasional transgressions. She should be attentive to him. He never said goodbye first. Never said now stop. He was really kind and polite with her.

Remembering his style, holding the hand of the Past and smiling to the Present – she was sure that she had much more to thanks him. Much more. And she turned up the head and blinked to the Universe.

The message from him in that morning it was: Here is our trip. All done.

She said for herself in real voice – yes – he is right. The cure disappeared like a bubble. She was like ever in the Past. She really could not be concentrated anymore.

It was hard push the mind, eyes, ears, hands – back again to the job.

The Memory brought so fast not the tools of her job, but all the five trips they made together. Five trips in so few time. And now the sixth trip together. He erased the nine thousand, nine hundred, forty-three kilometers on a delicious way.

For many times when they were together for few days he made jokes about – if there were another meeting. All the phrases and plans received that stamp – if. She smiled because she knew him and his jokes. Furthermore – she was sure that it would be.

He was correct, of course. He felt on his skin how fast plans could be changed. Nobody knows anything about the next minute – only her knew – she used to say to him. I know. I know all about our Future.

One day at the beach – one of their trips – they were sat very close one to another. She said this: I know about our Future. He touched her leg so soft and said please I do not want to know. Do not tell me.

And she stopped to say this until one day after dinner in living room – for their time for share the music. The dog was calm as always in these moments.

Suddenly he said – tell me what will happen with our Future. I want to know.

She smiled surprised and she began to tell what she thought. All. Every detail. She told about the time and the Time. She told about healthy and happiness. She told about what she could feel and about what he could feel. She told about what she thought about forever.

He listened. So many surprises and care. Too much love and share.

She didn’t remember exactly but maybe it was after that night that he nevermore made the joke about if. Possibly. But the Memory sometimes changes the orders because it knows that the product is the same. The important is the tattoo on and in the Memory. She felt a hug from the Past.

It was an unforgettable and touched evening for her.

In that morning from the arrived message she finally finished the job on time and went away in the evening without any mistake – of course with so much effort – and came back home hurried. She needed to read again the message.

When she was inside her home – she made a ritual.

Changed fast the clothes, served for her self a glass of wine, sat in her habitual place at the table, and put a music. She didn’t remember when was the last time she listened that specific music. She loved it above all but she just listened in such special moments, like a reverence – to the special moment and to the music.

Valse Sentimentale from Tchaikovsky.

For her that was one of the most beautiful compositions of the world. But she just listened in moments that she was sure she was happy. Happy. Not only with joy. Maybe seems the same – but are different feelings. She understood this difference after she met him – and because of him this line that separated the two sensations was bold.

That was the reason because she lost the concentration – all her was dominated for the real happiness. Now she knew. Fantastic. The unconscious made a good job. She smiled.

For sure and of course – only few times in her life she listened that music but always alone. At that time it was an occasion – a celebration. But not totally alone – he was with her in their private world of communication.

After all the ritual completed – she began to read the message calmly.

He was sure: all done.

The trip was unbelievable. Part would be in his opened car – part by ship. All the little cities and islands would be there – waiting for them.

The trip was completely out of common for her – so beautiful cities, so much history and the most beautiful sea of the Planet – with it special color around. He knew him and could evaluate how kind he was. He just chose this trip for her. He was there many times in his life and had wonderful and missing memories.

She remembered that he said – I want to go with you to this part of the world because I am sure you will be so fascinated and because your enthusiasm is contagious.

She smiled.

She remembered the surprise when she saw a picture of the last hotel of the trip and smiled. A wonderful hotel up on the rocks and the sea around. She sent to some friends the itinerary and the site of this particular hotel that he chose for them and wrote: how could I do not have enthusiasm.

Yes – it was impossible.

And she repeated he same thinking of the beginning of the memories. She was sure that she had much more to thanks him. Much more. And she turned up the head and blinked (again) to the Universe.

She put off the music and went to sleep. She was happy.

Past or Present or Future live only inside each one. Sometimes act like monsters other times act like lovers. At the end is just a private mix. Like she heard in some popular music – nobody will dreams our dream.

And the fog appears not only to provoke half visibility. Sometimes the fog appears also to announce a hot day.

That would be the next lesson.

A HAND IN THE FOG

XIV

She woke up early. It was not necessary in that specific morning – but she awoke early.

Coffee and bread without hurry as every morning made her feel so calm. Finally a morning to celebrate – there was no clock calling her each 5 minutes.

The climate was very cold and nobody was away from home. The silence on the street was almost magical. She loved this. She looked around her apartment and said the usual joke in real voice – so this is what happens when I am far from here. And the silence inside and some noise outside answered the usual joke.

She smiled to the mirror.

Suddenly a soft sound did her turn the head. It was a call from her friend.

If she wrote a report about that early morning could begin like: Point one – news from the friend.

They lived very far one to another but with the blessed modern technology – they could talk like common neighbors.

When the friend began to tell her what was happening with her body – terrible and dangerous diseases – she remembered Morpheus. Why hell she said good morning for him so early.

And she discovered the hard way that Morpheus demonstrated his power and vengeance when someone does some that he doesn’t like or want. Nobody knows the humor of a God but do not care – it is a real risk.

It was a horrible day. First the news from her friend and after some memories that began to reborn as a film – but a not so happy film.

The friend told about her own body. A disease was developing so fast and the medication was hurting her – so sadness for a so young girl. She fished the style of the phrases: so fast, so sadness, so young. She tried to make a puzzle with the words for her self trying to support the angst – so young, so sadness, so fast or so sadness, so young, so fast or so sadness, so fast, so young.

Of course it didn’t work. Words are only words. Feelings lived in another place. The communication re-born again.

But the worst it was when the friend asked her if she would be cured. She should answer the truth – but who really knows the truth. She just said half-truth and remembered also a poem she loved – a poem about the half-truth.

This was one of her preferred poem during all her life – or better – since she read it so many years ago.

This poem was the reality.

She answered for her – yes, you’ll never be cured – probably. The body can changes a disease. The mind can changes the body and the disease. Nobody knows what happens in fact with a body – a real slave from the mind – or vice versa.

But she cried in front of her when she said this. It supposed to be the strong – but she didn’t hold her tears. Both cried and both smiled. What a way to help a friend – she thought. When they said goodbye – her muscles were tension.

Sometimes nobody knows exactly the reasons of the tears and it was not different for her in that moment. She was not sure why cried with so much pain – maybe because of her friend or maybe because of her self.

In fact a person looks at all persons like it was in front of a mirror.

Almost like just one in the world in front of a millions of images. It is the selfish giving orders. The superego was in command.

But the morning had more to her.

She’d never forget the voice of her friend in that morning. She repeated or asked – she was not sure – with a slow and low voice: I will never be cured.

In the report the next paragraph could be – Point two – News from the Memory.

What a morning.

Because of this situation she remembered immediately when – one night many years ago – someone said some that hurt deeply her.

It was the same sound of her own voice when she answered him. Unbelievable.

She was surprised – the same sensation to be hurt or to be sick. The body and the soul are the same when afflicted. She would think about this someday in the Future – if the Future exists – of course.

It could be comic if not sad – the same sound of a voice.

But she would thank him forever. Forever. He made her understand like a cut of a knife – so cold and without blood in the beginning – her place. Or the place he understood as her place – without a doubt.

During many years after that night she pulled off the Memory this sign of wrong place every time she felt that she was making another mix like that. Or that someone was almost repeating the scene in front of her.

And the Memory helped her to go on without knives or shocks. When she felt that the past situation was coming back like a phantom with a different dress – she went away.

Simple.

She thanked for the Existence much more than for the Life itself.

Tomorrow – she spoke in high voice – it will be another day with so plural and different emotions. And other memories – I hope.

Please, Morpheus, tell me the time you prefer listen “good morning”.

She smiled.

A new message came – he wanted to ask about the next trip if she agreed. She almost told him about fog, knife, memory, place or voice. But said nothing.

Just smiled happy and celebrated the next trip with him. And became immediately to put an X in the days of the calendar. A beautiful calendar he made with his photos. Perfect. and smiled again.

At that moment she remembered another writer she admired so much. The day begins with an emotion and finishes with another emotion. She loved this.

And added talking with herself: the Life stammers phrases and phrases stammer the Life – a real communication.

A HAND IN THE FOG

XIII

The music was perfect. They were together in the living room just listening and one or another moment talked about some of their lives – a memory or a short story. The lamp was always off. Just the natural light of the night drew their bodies.

The time after dinner and before go to the bed it was also delicious.

It seems that the world had stopped and everybody had disappeared – only them in their particular style.

She preferred be in silence to absorb this bizarre style of dialogue that no one word was necessary. She loved this. Only the smoke and the smell of the cigars and of course the smell of the skin – put both landed. The dog at each almost half hour opened her eyes just to confirm they were in fact there. And went on sleeping on the carpet with her calm breath and the four legs completely relaxed.

It was a wonderful time to live and now to remember when they repeated almost the same scene – like a sweet ritual.

In the middle of the night before go to the bed – every night – they went to a ride with the dog. The park close home was empty at that time but it was a so safe ride. They let the dog run free and sit on the green bank of wood – to talk about the next day. Or just to be close and touch a little bit more. At that time – Time was dreamed and realized with deep intensity.

They learned perfectly that the Time goes fast and change plans and smiles without a preview.

The dog – that just celebrates the Existence and does not need to understand past or future – jumped and ran for some minutes and came close to her to receive a massage on the back – and then jumped and ran again and again.

Fun for all – could be a new inscription on the flag.

In the first night at this midnight ride in park she smiled thinking about herself and her past relationship with dogs. Never she could imagine – nor in the most perfect hallucination – be so friendly with a dog. She really liked her. And she, at her part of the relationship – took care of her. She just went back home or upstairs if she was together, if not she went back fast, four feet making the noise for call.

Communication is anarchic.

It doesn’t matter if has a word, a silence, a look or a bark.

Communication is a sign of freedom.

It can begins sometimes with a hand holding a paper, or a smile in a concert, or a turn of head, or a note on the bed, or a massage on the back, or a hug without a movement, or a breath in the middle of the night, or a coffee splash out on the kitchen’s floor, or a soft kiss on the hair in a long line, or with a frightened hand looking for help after a nightmare, or a pillow put under the head in pleasures moments, or the last look before a kiss, or the slow and strong touch before to feel.

Communication is an opened emotion.

But she was sure that the perfect measurement about feelings is when someone surrounds herself much more than the other can evaluate.

This happens in specific situation – when the selfish instinct goes down to an unbelievable low level. This is an uncontested proof of the existence of Love – for the lover and for the beloved. But there is no elements or tools to demonstrate clearly. It is necessary that both feel the same.

Communication needs energy.

She smiled to herself. How many thinking in the middle of the night in the park looking a dog jump and run.

He was right: she was sick. She looked at him and kissed him – sit on the green bank while the dog jumped and ran – a fast kiss on his arm. She remembered that he held her hand and looked at her with a tender way. Maybe he could read minds. Maybe. Or – he understood her from him self. Or perhaps – vice versa.

Some weeks after this first time at the park, when she went back and was sadly very far from him – nine thousand, nine hundreds, forty-three kilometers – she received a message from him. He sent a message about someone she didn’t know. This unknown person to her had written for another person close to him and told about both walking in the park.

She was really surprised. So – there is no place all over the world that anybody can’t be observed for someone.

The person wrote: I saw him with a beautiful lady in the park with a dog. Looking at them – the way they were – it awake inside me the desire to live.

She was both: surprised and happy. She knew since ever that the nomination came from the other. It’s “the other” that can read and translate a couple or a style, a solitude or a sharing, a fraternal or a sensual touch – and nominate who is with who. More or less like this, the concept was some like this, but of course not literally. Literal concepts are good-for-nothing. And at that time – no fog covered them.

She smiled.

She read many times his message. She could not believe that the anonymity could be broken so easily. She had the habitude to be transparent and suddenly her invisibility was broken like a glass. The change made her astonished. But as always – she faced.

It was in fact funny because she “reborn” – because of a message – in another country. Someone that she never saw during all her life, described her inside and outside. Someone that she never saw during all her life described her feelings. Fantastic.

She stopped to think about the park, the dog and the visibility when she came with a glass of wine to celebrate the so expected meeting. Another noise – and at this time so loud – made both look back immediately.

Communication doesn’t need asks and – sometimes – no formal answers.

A HAND IN THE FOG

XII

It was a fantastic trip. Something worked different. He was different. He was happy and more relaxed. She was so excited and full of joy.

They decided for that meeting so fast and she organized her job to be absent for more five days. He did the same.

Five days.

But in all stories a parenthesis must be addict. At this time the parenthesis could be called movement. The plains in a paper are very different of the plains in reality. Reality, for sure, love plains because can change and play with dreams like a chest.

But she never realized this. She understood much more from dreams than from realities. Much more than a style it was her structure. Of course she lost many times in her life because of this and cried – but structure is like a zodiac sign – impossible to change.

No direct fly – one connection. It didn’t matter.

Both were touched for the chance to meet again so soon – and it seems that they could accelerate the time if they finished fast the protocols. Something like this.

So there was the parenthesis. Nothing is ever time and hours. The flight was late. The connection could be lost and all the plains could be changed. She was really worried but trying to pretend calm. Inside the plane she was obvious absolutely sure that there was nothing to do.

The plane arrived. Just twenty minutes to be in front of the door to the next plane.

She ran. Ran. Ran. A metro. After the metro – ran. Ran. It was an unbelievable marathon to get a plane. But first she should show the passport. A woman sit behind a glass with a tired face was so professional. She read each page like never had read a line in all her life. Calm – so much calm.

She tried to breath and to control her self to not break that glass and get off her passport when the woman said – ok.

She ran. Ran.

Finally she was in front of the desired door. Five steps more and she was it into the plane.

She won. Almost died – but won. Close parenthesis. The Reality at this time lost the game. She smiled.

He was there. A smile. He opened his arms and for some minutes they were hugged as if the world had stopped. No voice. No movement. Just the hug put their bodies so close.

They were together. That was the message from the body and from the emotion. They were together. For five days the time was on their favor. For five days the space was real. For five days they could feel each other by the skin. The five days were working like a good parenthesis. She smiled again – nothing is totally bad or totally good. Everything changes.

Time is special when the skin recognizes the skin. The pleasure is inside and outside but in such particular way that only the hands can draw the feelings – and only the feelings can translate the hands. This is what changes the Existence in poems and the poems in Life.

For five days they smiled. Loved. Cooked. Ride. Kissed. Hugged. Talked.

It was delicious.

Little and common situations were wonderful points of satisfaction. Go to the supermarket. Buy the dinner. Look around to find the car. Feel the sun inside the opened car. Tell jokes. Listen music sit on the living room. Lost the key. Say ciao for his home when entered and went away. Burn the food for the dinner’s friends. Smoke cigars. His surprised eyes every time she smoked with him. And all with hand in hand. Fantastic. Delicious.

All with so much care.

At that time it was their fifth meeting in less of one year. The long distance prohibited the spontaneous physical meeting. All should be planned. But they made measurements jokes about nine thousand, nine hundreds and forty- three kilometers of distance between them and tried always to change numbers in touch.

They felt so close – as if they knew each other for all their entire lives. They knew their own stories, their lost and missing and their smiles and tears. They knew the reasons and the fantasies. They knew about justice and injustice. They knew about Life and Death – Eros and Thanatos. They knew about solitude and sharing.

Both learned that the Life could be – sometimes – so short and so long. Sometimes.

She remembered her age when some people looked at them. Yes – they were not exactly teens in love. They were adults acting with the right that seems only young people could have. The love is for young people – like an inscription on a flag. She smiled. And when she kissed him in a public situation with noise – he beg her not to do this. And remember her again about the age.

But in fact – both do not care about flags or inscriptions. She loved this.

After those five days – she needed to turn back to the same nine thousand, nine hundreds, forty-three kilometers.

She felt his cold hand. He felt her sad way of looking. Time to say goodbye. Ciao home. Ciao.

She would never forget that scene.

They were sat at the kitchen. The suitcases were readies.

He hold her hands and said – lets plain our next meeting. It will make us stronger and put in a low level our sadness for the farewell.

And in front of the boarding room – much more than a hug – they hold their bodies.

Next month we will go to a wonderful trip. Lets follow the strange line of the Destiny – of our Destiny.

Before cross the line she looked back. He was there waving goodbye for her. There was no fog at that time. And she was sure she would meet him again – he was waiting for her.

Inside her handbag it was the first book he gave to her in that so distant afternoon in that little city. But she didn’t tell him.

The noise stopped.

Both were fascinated with the meeting. She came. Finally we met each other my dear. Come to drink a wine as we always planned. He will cook for us – as we always planned also. He smiled happy. Thank you Destiny – if you really exists – thank you for make such excellent job for us. And she began to talk about changes and Life style. The dog barked. She understood all about Destiny.

But much more would happen.

A HAND IN THE FOG

XI

She didn’t know why exactly but for many days she felt some uncomfortable sensation. Her emotions were strange, as if she had seen a new landscape but couldn’t understand where she was. Or if she was listening a new language: she could understand but couldn’t translate – or better the opposite.

Something very strong was disturbing her for days and nights.

It was difficult to sleep. For hours in the middle of the night she was with opened eyes. It was the first time in all her entire life that she couldn‘t sleep normally.

They were together for ten days. They had a wonderful trip to a part of her country that she also didn’t know. It was a beautiful city inside the forest. The food was unforgettable. The smell of the city invited to be there. The people were warmish and friendly. The climate was so hot. And it was the black horse. Walk on the beautiful black horse it was an unforgettable experience. She loved it.

Sit in front of the huge river they discovered a new way to look at the planet.

And they were closer than before. For some reason that travel was much more emotional than the others they did before. They were all time hands by hands. Smiles. Kisses. New codes. They cared each other with so much tender. The nights and the days were full of magic sensations.

She remembered the dinner’s time. Delicious places. Delicious wine. One special night she said some foolish phrase and he smiled so happy – what it was not so usual. But when he was truly happy – he smiled as if not existed past or future – only that small moment all over the world and inside and outside their bodies. Their bodies were the limits of the time. The time put their bodies out of it limits.

When he smiled like this – she was full of joy – and touched him so soft.

They travel back from this magic city to her home for be together more three days. One morning he asked while shaved – can we go to the beach near here the day after tomorrow?

It was a double feeling. The day after tomorrow as he said it was the day he would be back to his country – this was sad. But he and his unconscious tried to forget – this was nice.

She kissed him so much. Like the joke between them: many kisses so fast with a sweet noise. He seemed feel the same as she.

The farewell between them was stronger than the other times. She felt him involved and touched. She was also involved and touched. He hugged her so strong before go into the room of departure that she felt pain on her shoulder. But the real pain was in her soul and on her entire body. She said nothing. He said nothing.

And they separated their bodies.

Say goodbye and look at the empty hand was heartbreaking. Feel the solitude and the silence around the body it was painful.

She remembered that she came back home and acted like a robot. Put things in order. Changed clothes. Washed some dishes. No music. Talk by phone with her family. Organized the next day. She could not eat. She could not drink. All her body was closed for any kind of material sensations. No hungry. No thirst. No need. Only demands.

In the next morning – he called her. I am just now leaving the plane. I miss you so much. Happy birthday.

It was true. She had forgotten – it was her birthday.

And now for some unknown reason – she could not sleep. Her job was so hard and work without sleep well it was much more hard. She just felt a nice sensation only when she came back home. Maybe because she didn’t need anymore expose her social smiled. At home and alone she could be herself for herself.

In fact she missed him. In fact he was so far. In fact life must go on. And they said goodbye other times before. Maybe it was not exactly this. But she didn’t know what kind of exactly was that strange feeling.

In the middle of the night – with her eyes well opened – the memories came to share the silence of the night. So many delicious phrases said for him came to her conscious awaked.

The first meeting it was amazing. In the first two seconds they recognize themselves. It could be nominated as the meeting of the body’s discovered. Surprises and pleasures were joking with them and they joked with the surprises and the pleasures. At the end of the meeting – the end of the trip – they understood about body chemical.

The second meeting it was different. In the first two days he was more inside himself. His own memories made him much more serious than usual. She knew that he was remembering hard situations and gave to him his time. After these days they became closer. At the end of the meeting – the end of the trip – they understood about complicity.

The third meeting it was the mix of the two. He was so opened. Could make jokes about pains and past. Could smile for nothing and for everything.

Could tell about lost and risks. She was so light and delighted. At the end of the meeting – the end of the trip – they understood about feelings.

The fourth meeting it was carried with mysteries.

It was the most difficult farewell.

At the end of the meeting – the end of the trip – they understood about missing.

There was an unbelievable construction of the affection. It was hard to say goodbye.

At the first moment she didn’t understand why.

But it was clear. In all those meeting they became to be one instead of two. Each part of the stories about each one – constructed one new story. And they became to be one. They self constructed each one by the words like a construction of a book.

With her eyes opened in the night she remembered a friend. One day he said – if you can’t explain it is because you can’t understand and when you can understand – you don’t need to explain.

She smiled. Smiled. Now she understood. Now she knew why could not sleep as well as during all her life. Now she could see the Future. Now she could see the line of the Life.

Now she felt the delicious and excited touch of the value of the Existence.

She got out from the bed and while drunk a glass of water she said to herself – now I am sure I will sleep as usual. Be with my eyes opened it was the reason for close in the right moment. And she felt a calm inside her so peacefully that promised nevermore forget those moments.

And in fact – nevermore – she forgot.

She smiled after faced the noise. It was really a fantastic surprise.

A HAND IN THE FOG

X

It was early in the morning for her – late for him.

She was working as her habitual style. Concentrated. This was one of her strong characteristic – the concentration.

Many years ago was quite different. She remembered that during all her life – everybody criticized her.

And they were right.

She used to travel on the fly of imagination and of course she forgot all the duties. Always and easily. Nothing was more easy at that time than dreams e phantasies.

A soft sound or a low movement – put her “away from her seat”. The brain went fast to some place that nobody could believe. Even herself. When she “came back to the seat” she needed some few minutes to identify herself. nd many times she preferred be flying away than be in front of the well dimensioned reality.

Maybe much more than a characteristic – maybe this was a wall of defense – a tower on a castle.

She smiled for this word – castle. It was necessary two material castles for her understand.

For all those years she asked and looked for a Castle to be hidden. Always.

One day – suddenly as happens when an insight borns – she had two castles to celebrate the hidden one.

The reality was hard for her most of the years of her life, so the imagination became her best friend – and supported her to go on.

Sometimes she thought that the Castles arrived very late. Other times she thought that she found the Castles very late. A semantic self discussion. Finely she stopped to fight with words or with the correct position of the words and realized that her own castle was exactly into the right place since the beginning. She smiled.

It was inside her. It was amazing when one day – she could see. It was ever there.

But she excused herself for the blindness because it is necessary look for outside wearily – for have the chance to find something inside. It is a hard job that needs so much courage and persistence.

She won.

She understood that she was not invisible. She was real. Real.

On the day she concluded this – many changes happened – inside and outside her. The look at the life changed. The look at the world changed. The look at herself changed.

It was a hard and difficult experience, but she believed that it was her last chance to be happy and calm. Be invisible it was perfect for the eye of the other – the other existed. Was real. If that was a joke – she needed to turn over the final game.

She couldn’t change the other, of course, and for sure she couldn’t change her self much more. But she could change her position. And she changed.

And she changed.

First was the silence. After was the eyes opened.

She didn’t sleep for days. Day and night she was awaked and concentrated.

Speechless. Astonished. Touched.

The three magical words that so long time ago made she feel happy when she read – now she introjected.

When he wrote to her these words he could not imagine how intense and strong could be the effect so many time after. Those words were like seeds. Maybe that was the first moment of unconscious comprehension. And she was sure that he didn’t remember that wrote those words. She smiled.

This was true: the effect of the words has no chronological time to occur. It is like a wave that comes and goes several times and only few times can really break a stone.

She would thank for that three words forever. Forever. Without logical or reason – he was the responsible for so much changes and cure of the blindness. And after this cure – she began more and more to be concentrated. Like a magnetic: one pulls another. It is so mysterious the bypasses of the brain and the emotions to support the insights.

And when she was concentrated in that morning – at that moment early for her and late for him – she received his message.

I will be with you in three weeks – for ten days. I really need to touch you. Only talk is not enough. I need to touch and to feel you.

All the theory about concentration and cure of blindness disappeared instantly.

She stopped a little – read many times the message – closed the door of her office – and smiled and kissed the message. Three weeks. Ten days together. Ten nights. Together.

It was difficult carry on the concentration. She wanted to go back home – lay down on the bed – look at the ceiling and celebrate with herself and her own space. It was a selfish moment. Much more than the sadness – joy is feed for selfish and solitaire sensations. It is impossible share at the exact moment while it is inaugurated.

It was the second time he would come to her home.

It was a delicious surprise for her to know how much he missed her. It is not easy the comprehension for not be invisible. It is hard in the practical. So much better make jokes with theory about insights than feel the reality.

Now she was real – this was the only motif that he said I really need to touch you. Only talk is not enough. I need to touch and to feel you.

She was – she is – real. It was the first proof. Words plus acts were showing in fact the proof.

She celebrated with the mirror. And smiled from herself touching the image at the mirror – a funny and serious moment. And the image also of her hands made her remember their first meeting and his hand with the soft touch. She closed her eyes and the image came inside her.

Not only the concentration wanted to run away. She smiled alone – I wanted to run away from here too.

But she must goes on. It was early and she had all the workday – before come back home. Or before lie down on the bed and feel the wonderful sensation of the Existence. And imagine his touch on her skin. And wait for the three weeks coming together with the ten days.

With her both hands together – there was her waiting for him in front of the exit at the airport. It was not early for her or late for him. They were in their real time.

When he appeared – a large smile and her hands were opened for him.

A voice came outside the place of the noise that she was in front. Turning her head she smiled.