- I've gotta relieve my heart to you. It's time.
- Okay? She asks - with that "I'm-not-sure-I-wanna-know-expression" written in her face.
- Think I'm gonna leave you. And the horses. Living in the forest is not the same for me anymore - I need some people around me. Some café-living, some disturbing elements in my calm, lonely life. And I definitely need some music.
- Oh. I thought you were going to take over your dad's farm and start a bed & breakfast? For when the Germans come over the brigde.
Did I really say that once? Did I plan that? My God. Haven't I been disoriented.
- Well, I'm not going to. Everything is different now that I'm single.
I can't help wondering how I got here? On this silent spot in the middle of the world, where absolutely nothing has happened besides the things that happen automatically. Little things. And things that are hard to avoid. Like break-ups and wanting to travel or moving to a more buzzing place of the world. Did both of us go all this way out here because it was the thing the "united I" really wanted? Did we create this person together - with ideals, interests, habits and attitudes that were only existing when we were united? The funny thing is that none of us (as we are apart now) want this kind of living. So who created the need? Where is that person now? And should I make some kind of funeral? Burry it in the garden next to our (the person's) bird "Ovo" and the poor kitten, that lived such a short life? Put up a stone that says from april 2001 to november 2007?
Should I be sad and shed some tears?
I say a lot of words to my boss and she says something about liking my company and how important a good working environment is. And then she understands. That's nice. Or else I wouldn't have chosen her as my boss. But I like to be reassured.
I did the whole round today. Declared my moving to Aarhus around the beginning of 2008. I have decided now. And the singular self is a woman of her word.
For real! The only thing we can be certain of is that we are going to die. And that time passes. Just a week ago I was in Valencia... Thursday. We'd been in the aquarium (I'd like to spend one night in that big room with fish all over. Just to see what that might do to my dreams!), feeling a bit awkward about how to behave after finally having had sex the night before and then spending thursday as a couple - which none of us really wanted. I became a bit sad, because I missed our talks and magic, which the sex seemed to have chewed and swollen during the night. But then - the fantastic, repeating thing about the Valencia story - relieving my heart turned sadness into something better (unidentified still) and around this time (midnight) I think we'd be having sex again.
Sometimes I get these "cramps" when I recall some of the hottest scenes. As if my body were back in delight of his touch. If sex is overvalued I don't wanna know.
Rebecca
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