Love

April of 2001 

It is always hard to write about us. I'm not sure why. I can't seem to describe who you are. I can't seem to know you in any way. There is something about you that just keeps a distance and I don't like distances. Never have. But that did not happen in April of 2001. 

What happened then was. A sound long and deep. Like a bell in the remote distance of a town you once belonged to, but that you no longer know. Not important now. We were important. 

We were one sharing a bed and a world full of collided illusions. Black and white dives into mute unrecognizable souls. Two strangers taking showers together amidst a profound and soaring lack of intimacy. We came into each other's lives in a crowd. Our story is nothing, but unique. You were cautious, I was curious. Time has always been conspiring against us. 

Until one day, we were both free and at the same place. We danced, the dance floor was empty and full of hope. I noticed some signs, but in lieu of discovering love I found some comfort and ignored the signs. What followed was a series of frustrated expectations. A passion that was vigorous and dead at the same time. I often cried. I often screamed. 

The heart is affected by the realization that something is missing. The heart knows. The mind hides. And we went on with our lives - apart - thinking that time was going to heal the wounds. I never knew what to do with my scars though. I always wondered how much you hated me. Saw you on a few occasions and did not acknowledge your existence publicly. Observed your behavior from afar like big waves engulfing myself in dreams that I could not remember the morning after. Just like I have forgotten our memories - a mere survival strategy.

Until one day, we happened to cross paths again. You walked towards me and invited me to dance. I was caught off guard, got up and embraced what seemed to be a possiblity to leave the past behind. Time again walking on a crystal roof. 

Time and time again we are fooled by the hope that insists in making us re-enter  a dimension that did not exist anymore. We insisted in re-creating it. We then carefully had to weave our way into a different picture. And the water in that river was enough to only water a small portion of my soul. I am thirsty and feisty. We pretended to compromise. We unmade the bed. We secluded ourselves in hope. 

Although we were running out of water, hope was always a shadow. Little did it do to sustain the water flowing. Did nothing to feed me. We continued walking the same path to the day there was no water left. My lips cracked. My fingers bled. My soul screamed for more. Exasperation - I was called.

We traveled and it was easier then. Surrounded by loved ones - the abundance of love mesmerized me. My skin then wrinkled and abandoned showed some signs of recovery. The heart was being watered on a regular basis. 

We often hide. You hide your life from me. I hide my soul from you. Because I know you can't handle my soul. You can't see the hues, you can't listen to its sounds. You just know what is apparent. The sadness people see. But you don't see the rest. You never became intimate with my soul. 

That was when I realized that the hopes I had were dead like a dry branch of a tree, it was then that my body didn't respond to you anymore. I could not undress and have you partake of what was left of me after the draught. Hope died, not long ago. Cardiac arrest. Long exposure to suffering. She exhausted herself in trying to fight a lost battle.

All images by Dan Garver.