What becomes of youth? Where does it go? I can’t stand to look at old pictures. I’m going to bury them deep in my hard disk because I can’t stand to lose them either. Such beautiful pictures. Old, and full of years. I don’t know how to remember you, I’m so terribly confused.
The last few years are such a blur, how our faces have changed. I couldn’t bring myself to accept the fact that time is linear and age it’s loyal ally. That the years had lined themselves up on your face, marking little bruises of victory on your body like a forsaken lover. But in the end with all the wrinkles and bones, I only remember the glow, pure as snow. Did I tell you you were stunning ? You reminded me of mangoes, of an old TV Set, of old comics, of home. I was always prepared for this moment, but I feel so restless now. Cold walls and bricks of mortar and all the air conditioning in the world can’t keep down my flaming heart. You know how they say, a body is just a box? I’m going to pretend you’re getting a new one. Facebook me.
” What films do I make? What eulogies should I write? What portraits should I save? Word and colours and songs are defeated by time. Time has won. Now, let me run, faster than horses of lightening, so that my life is a blur, and I catch up to everyone I’ve lost to time. Send me the spaceship newton promised. Give me back my time.”
See you on the other side, with him, and our german shepherd.