MWG Writes on Q
March 2015
Heart to Heart
“This Fall, for you” he said and signed on the first page right under the dedication, “To her…always here”
Who’s she? And what a hell is he trying to prove? Am I already dead or what? Maybe I am. It’s something
blurry in his eyes…detachment or even worst, relinquish.
“I need to ask you something, you see, it is not clear to me whose fall you’re talking about here, yours or
mine?
“The book is mine, isn’t it?”
Of course it’s his, no wander he looks baffled…and I have no idea why I put my foot into my mouth: “Who’s
her?”
“You are!”
I knew it was not a good idea!
“You’re such a summer “…I recall him saying and I never thought seriously about that until now, I remember
the roughness of his voice and I am surprise that he didn’t use the index finger to highlight his disapprove or
maybe his disappointment. I knew than as I know now he loves autumn, chromatic colours and flying leafs
but I never held myself to look deeper in his chasm of feelings …I would’ve understood much better who he
was.
Definitely I’m an idiot! Why I thorn myself to translate what is untranslatable? He was, he is a lousy
masochistic bastard who doesn’t give a damn for anyone and anything…he drowns himself in drinks,
suffocates his lungs in cigarettes and puts his mind on that rollercoaster of reclusive solitude
Of course I loved him, damn it, I still do!
”When I was young”…that is a verse from a song I like if I remembered correctly “My mama said”…eh, no, my
mama never said anything at least not about my derailed wanders, anyway the age is a retro-scan of years
past.
xxx
The park is almost deserted, the leaves travel chaotically as it happens always in fall, an old man walks his
dog dangling the leash and nothing else moves, it is so quiet that I can hear my thoughts clear and washed of
all my thunder. I actually know: he didn’t leave me he didn’t leave anything he just retired himself in the
pages of his books…seeing him is an illusion!
He just ceases to exist!