"I am you and you are me; where you are ,I am. Whatever you find, it is me you are finding..and when you find me,you find yourself."
- from "What Can I Do When Everything's On Fire" by Antonio Lobo Antunes.
A wild, cold wind runs a bitter winter's havoc in the trees and wires,neighborhoods and streets this black night. People slam doors,noisey footsteps on the stairs.
I pile quilts,blankets over me.
I unpack the carefully wrapped photo of him from my suitcase.
I look at this photo of him and laugh and love and yearn and try to stop feeling, to cut quick that sob in my heart. Earlier,I stood in the cold confines of aeroports...with the phone in my hands. Lisbon,no... Germany?..Paris?..Cornwall?
A ceiling fan...I switch on to fill this room with a constant,comforting sound..a spinning humming....
a vibration out into the North Atlantic night from the Irish Sea to the Massachusetts and Buzzard Bays,from the Bay of Biscayne through the Channel to the North Sea.....through Marconian tunnels of long distance that echoe in voices that unite in words of love,in a history of ancient ocean winds, the music and sighs and screams of all lovers cascading into the endless unwritten pages of space and stars
.....the re-emerging, reincarnating life of a kiss.
