la vida termina

Treba da spavam. Ali imam osjecaj da nesto nisam zavrsila, da nesto nisam uspjela uraditi. Sve vise osjecam da vise nemam onoliko vremena kao prije, blizi se deadline a ne znam sta je bio zadatak. Bit ce to sve mnogo jasnije sutra. Interesantno, danas sam se probudila, opet ljepa, sebi. Danas mi se cini da su mi podocnjaci nestali i sjena sa lica se izbrisala. Mozda sto sam pazljivo osluskivala svoje tjelo i vjerovala mu na rjec. Mozda jer sam svarila ovo neobicno ljeto sto me izoblicilo i iskrivilo. Mozda jer sam odlucila da ipak vjerujem. Tesko je objasniti zasto je taj nalet strasti bio tako vazan. Mislim da je to najvise bilo jer je dosao u pravom trenu, kad sam ga najmanje ocekivala. Prodrmao me, razbudio me, priblizio me onom najkonkretnijem djelu sebe: svom tjelu.

I feel so lonely, maybe I give too much and demand too much back
you don't understand me anymore
and I don't belong in this world of planning babies, talking about boyfriends
I can't talk to you about what really matters
you will never understand why I needed you to stay the whole night
you did not want to pay the ticket back
but it is just money, and you have plenty of it
you desert me, and talk about friendship
I use big words, the small ones I don't know
you use big words, when your thoughts and deeds are small
here, nothing is real

Suddenly it starts smelling like him
among all the things I should do
I choose to write and drown in music
the belly grows
in it so many thoughts, feelings and smells
I hide behind the status updates on facebook
behind this words on the blog, not meant for anyone
but still published in the infinite cyberspace
it is less lonely to shout in a crowd
even if nobody can hear you among all the noise
it is a feeling of release
I think of all the fairytales in me and around me
I think of your smell
how something that exploded with such force
could become still like furniture around me
but maybe I am reconstructing
maybe I am constructing the present as well
maybe nothing really moves
but our thoughts
illusion of movement,
hypersensitivity, hyperspace
I can only be still for a while, attend to my duties
get comfortable in the sand
and wait for the next desert storm

Gledam tvoje slike
kako savrseno uramis svarnost
kao da vidis nesto drugo nego mi
kroz njih ja vidim nesto drugo u tebi
nesto njezno i pazljivo
nesto cak uplaseno i zadivljeno

Izabrao si preljepe slike mene
kroz njih ja znam da sam ti jos vazna
pazljivo si mi se priblizio, previse blizu
ogromni fotoaparat, i par sociva, izmedju nas
ne smetaju ti bore u uglovima usana
ili oko ociju
ti vidis sve to sto je zelim sakriti
na tvojim slikama djelujem snazna
i njezna

Gledam te na klupi na Tichelstraat
pusimo ja, ti i Cristina Rojo
Cristina je izmedju nas
ti gledas nju a znam da pricas meni
sjedimo tu u po noci
naduvani, opijeni i prazni
napokon prazni
i nemamo nista vise reci
tu noc sam legla spavati, sretna

"The magic is gone", you said. You had smoked the whole day, in one of Amsterdam's cofeeshops. You said goodbye to her just half an hour before. Minutes before, we said goodbye to the Egyptions, together we passed through the security control, we went to the taxfree shop talking about anything but us. And then we were there, under the sign. One arrow pointing to Gothenburg, the other pointing to Warsaw. There, we could no longer pretend, as we have the past days...

I suddenly remembered our goodbye in Amman. I had hugged you and you were so thin (now you are a bit bigger), you had a thick, violet, jumper on, and you had brought me a Snickers from the store. I remember your sad eyes, and the nickname you gave me - Montana. I did not know what I felt but I was sure you felt more. I cried on the taxi to the airport, and I kept telling Imke, the GI institut representative, how cool it was that I would meet someone like you there and that you had the same name as my first love.

I saved the snickers and ate it at the Charles de Gaulle airport. Afterwards, I did not throw away the paper.

I remembered arriving in Amsterdam two weeks earlier. I was worried, I knew that a year of not seeing eachother has distorted the images, I knew you expected too much from me, I knew I did not feel the same but did not want to lose you. I saw you through the glass wall and you started waving like a kid. We hugged, again, your smell in my nostrils. It was strange, you kept talking and talking about Damascus, about Syria, about Unicef, about the swine flu, about Palestinian children, about being a religious freelancer, about being a free bird... We almost forgot to get of the train in Amsterdam.

But it could not be avoided. The issue of Us. Few days later, we had The talk of all talks. It was a rainy day, we were on our way to a party with the participants of our workshop, you were next to me, for the last time, really next to me.

Afterwards, you started to be quiet. You started to move away. You started to avoid me. Some days we joked, but it was there, between us, The talk - the invisible line that had defined what should never be defined. I wanted to be honest, but this was not honesty. I was afraid. We stopped talking. You met her, this lovely, intelligent, playful American girl. And I knew I lost you. A year of fantasies, talks, dreams, plans, reduced to akwardness. It hurt me to hear your laugh across the room, see you talking to people, knowing that you exist. It hurt me, even if I thought I was prepared.

"The magic is gone", you sad under the arrows dividing us. "It happens, we have to survive the crisis". I felt a punch in my stomach. This was not what I wanted to hear.

"Let's go buy a coke", you said.

We went. I followed you to your gate. We sat down as the others were boarding. We kept talking about us, about my relationship, about how you have changed in Damascus, about your family, about my ideas of you. But nobody actually said anything. Nothing was said. We hugged one last time.

"Here, it is yours", you said and gave me the coke.

I waved and blew you a kiss. You waved back. No kiss.

I sat in the lounge area of Schiphol airport for a half an hour until I finally finished the coke. I packed the bottle in my backpack.

Was this love?, I thought as I was walking to my gate. On the plane, I ordered a bottle of wine and finished it. And then I slept. Forever.