The years long gone; the years with her, and the years without her, are exulting now. Recalling is a sweet pain I inflict to myself with some weird lust, a pain which always succeeds to freeze my thoughts; to the level – I can function by act only. Everything else in my mind – are glances only; glances of something before in there… God knows is it of any importance, or will it ever be important – why things repeat themselves – always. Now, I’m Then again, and yet I’m not. And she’s Then again, and yet she’s not. Only the Time – is Now.
With lips dried by lust, I travel among her body. Somewhere behind my eyes, the echo of her body’s relief resounds; all those – once well known – lines are reviving, engraving themselves afresh in my Mind at the same spots they were once before… They’re renewing, retrieving, like a statue covered a long time ago with a cover made of the living dust thrown on it by the passing time – that long time, so long, so long; to much, so much to long…
My eyes are drinking her so thirsty. My nose is swallowing the scent which is recall, and resumption.
The cycle is closing. Right here. In this moment, she is Yesterday, and Today.
Tomorrow never occurred in my mind.
“You know, I’ve almost forget how you’re body looks like.” – my voice sounds so sore – “But, the one within remembers…” – I wanted to close my eyes. But, my eye-drops refuse to move, they seem like marble.
And her eyes are closed.
She won’t open them. Like she’s afraid of showing them to me. She just moaned; and, squirming herself towards me, grabbed my head pulling it towards her breasts.
I did object that.
No. I just thought of doing that.
And in my mind, I kept looking for the memory of that behind her eye-drops…
… In my mind, I beg her to stop. To unchain the rings of her body’s lust she shrouded me with, and to show me the blue depths I want to dive into…
… To sink in them. To breathe of their tranquility in there.
And to lacerate. To burn it down. To outspread the ashes, and dance on the grave of all what rejoiced me once before, so I could be happy again.
Is there another way to recall the happiness?
But she doesn’t relent. She’s pushing me even more. Mine is the lust, but, where am I? The lust exists without me. She took it away from me, she detached it from my Mind, alienated it from my soul, and only that remained within my body.
And me… I’m floating above. Without my body. Without my lust. It remained down there with my flesh. So I can feel the waves of pleasure my body emanates.
With the one within.
The one who remembers.
With tears in his eyes he recites to me about those what I don’t have any more, about that what I lost a long time ago, about that which isn’t mine any more; same thing which revived, only to renew – for one brief moment – the songs of lost felicities…
… For me – not to forget. Anyway, not too early. Not yet.
I saw myself in a clouds of dust.
Dust so dark and thick, that I didn’t really saw myself. I only sensed I’m there.
Interlaced with our bodies melting and dissolving one in other, I lost track what’s hers and what mine. The dust was so thick, like black dough. Whirling around, waiting to fall back where it was for a long, long time…
My feelings betrayed me. They didn’t help.
Me memories are angry with me. They despised me. At least I know why…
“I feel empty, somehow…” – I felt and said at the same time.
And she didn’t know how, or what she feels. May be her body knows. That’s all of her here, now.
I will know that, only if she opens her eyes. Just if she opens them, and I go in. When I do that, I’ll know.
I have a lot of patience. I’ll wait.
That emptiness I felt was the hush between me and myself. The one within doesn’t speak to me any more. He did said what he had to say. A long, long time ago.
He has a lot of patience, too. And he will wait. Also.
The cigarette smoke goes up. It makes a cloud; well, it looks like one. And I try to imagine the stars on the ceiling, so I could have a complete view here. But, I can’t make it. It is such a pity:
I wanted to look at them so much.
I needed them. I do need them now. But, I can’t recall the image. There is, simply, no room in my memory – for them. Not now.
“I must leave…” – I spoke, and I wondered will I be able to do that completely – ever.
How much of myself I’m going to left behind – in this room – this time?
“Me and you, we are connected here, you know…” – I touch her forehead with mine – “… if not overhere.” – I lay my hand between her breasts – “In spite of that how firm we don’t want to admit to ourselves… Sometimes, I wonder if you know that at all…?”
And she, slowly, tender, as I know she may; the way only she can, moved herself – so I can hold her. In a way that I have no choice, but to do that. I fondled her neck.
She opened her eyes, so I could look at them. I did so, like it was my first time. But I didn’t find the answer to my question…
And the answer was: “I know .”
The answer was: “I know, so what!”
And not only in her eyes… That was the answer. In the whole her body, in every move she made, in her silence… But, I couldn’t see it. Although I knew it, I just couldn’t.
Maybe because she didn’t want me to.
“You can stay…” – she whispered, and winding her body around me, she hindered my denial with a kiss. And fondles. And with tenderness only she could make so – hers. So powerful.
The one within me cried with joy again, and dived into the whirls of the flame she fired. The relief of her body started to pour all over my thirsty lips, dried by lust again, so dried that hurts… Strongly, I’m clinging to her, giving her what she needs; but only small part of what I have – to give… and all that…
All of it! All that I turn into lust. Into fire in which she wants to burn herself!
And I here the same moan; in the very moment, I look for her eyes.
But they are closed already. Again.
Again and again.
And everything – afresh. Everything again…
My tears started to leak. Not really; but I can feel them… Not the one within me, but… the one who floats above.
And again, everything afresh…
Some things just don’t want to stop repeating themselves… That I know already. I don’t know even myself – if I really want them to stop… Not any more.
I didn’t know anything any more.
Even when I went home, with that part of me, which managed to do so.
Skopje, November 1994
Translated by the author