Milady of Oz

From her presence and her manners she was a queen, from what you could see in her eyes she was a star. I don't mean this in the vulgar sense of the word used to described people who have achieved certain notoriety, I mean it in the most literal possible way. At risk of sounding dull and sentimental, I dare say she definitely shone in an unexpected and mesmerizing way. Nevertheless, she was sweet and kind and if she was aware of her astral quality she was ever so subtle in demonstrating it.

I was one of the lucky ones, the ones that got to know her well I even was let in into the intricacies of the not so bright sides of her character. What she became later nobody could have anticipated, but I always had the sense that it was coming. Greatness is in everything she does, except in those moments when she decides not to act on it. Whether as a conscious decision or because of something she cannot help, those are the tinny little spots that remind us (and perhaps remind her as well) that she is in fact one of us and in my case in particular one of my own.

These are only words

I have pictured it many times in my mind, how it would be like when I finally awake. It will be cold at first, possibly disorientating, definitelly frightening. I imagine I will call out a name, any name, but you will know I'm calling you. You might turn slightly towards me only driven by the faint shadow of the hope that accompanied you all this time (All this time!), a mere reflex by now. In the end you will walk away, with your peculiar gait and perhaps with a soft smile on your face, with your hands tucked into the pockets of the black coat and the collar up, triumphant.

My voice will start becoming stronger, my lungs will start filling with air and my whispers will become screams. But it makes no difference, you will be long gone before I can manage to get on my feet, before I can start giving the first few steps down the hill. I will mutter something, probably trying to remember some words and trying to figure out their meaning. I will make a few attempts at this before deciding that it is not worth the effort, there is no more need for words, there will never be any need for words.

So when I am able to, I will start walking towards the voices and the noise and when I finally get there I will find all sorts of things. There will be praise and love. There will be disappointment and sorrow. I might be able to stay there for a long time. If I'm lucky enough I might be able to stay there for as long a time as I was away. And I will know I'm here now, finally here now! But amongst all those voices yours will be missing and I will know, as certain as the morning, that to me it is lost forever. And as the tick of a clock I will constantly hear it: That moment, the blink, that heartbeat that my heart might have skipped and then the click, the light, your silhouette growing smaller, engraved in the inside of my eyes so I will never dare to fall asleep again.

Elaine

I don't remember my name so I go by a sobriquet. I used to be able to walk around this place on the blackest nights, I used to know it well but now I stumble with the shadows all the time.
I don't remember my name and if I did I would not speak. I would not tell the story of how I came to be on the wrong shore, on the opposite side.
I don't remember my name, try as I might. Oblivion lured me in and promised me peace on the condition that I would stay. And as I walked further into the maze I cut the thread and never looked back again.

Alice was also three.

Debo confesar que he caido de nuevo en el abismo,
regresé otra vez sobre mis pasos y me perdí...

"Last night I dreamed that I was dreaming of you"

Y en estos días no salgo a caminar bajo la lluvia,
estos días intento concentrarme en la línea que dibuja mi memoria
y es difícil porque la niebla es cada vez más densa,
el toque ya no es suficiente y los recuerdos no me mantienen en tierra.

"And you danced to the shadow of a black poplar tree"


Debo confesar que he caido de nuevo en el abismo,
y esta vez el miedo no ha hecho efecto
no me detiene y no cambia nada
y no sé cuan larga será esta vez la caida
y por primera vez, no tengo certeza alguna de lo que quedará al final.

"And I watched you as you disappeared. I watched you as you disappeared. I watched you..."

Trout and Squirrel

So in the dark I heard the chords,
while I was hiding from the words,
there was a web to break the fall,
there was a shadow on the wall.

And so it was when I looked up
there was a mirror and a cup,
along came squirrel and the trout
and then a smile replaced the pout.

And as I walk out of the woods
and gently caring for my wounds
I hold this star, but not to weep,
for it to sing me in my sleep.

This much...I know...

These pretty empty days, this pretty empty city full of people and one missing...
And these gray skies, even when the sun shines and this wet cigarette that I cannot smoke and these numb hands... it will all pass.
I have that voice calling from the other side and those eyes that are still looking at me, amongst all these people, they still look at me even from afar and amidst the mist. And the thought soothes and I can breathe and feel the warmth, I can keep on my feet and walk.
So without waiting for the rain to stop I will keep walking until I get home.

Dear Vincent,

There is a hole in the wall and I have not been able to fill it up and the winter will soon be here and the snow will come and I fear, for the house will most certainly flood.
Dear Vincent, I've been away and I do not know now for how long I'll stay and even though I would like to, I wouldn't dare to say.

There is a broken window pane and the floor is rotten and the ghost that used to lurk the attic has abandoned us for good.

There's still a garden but the flowers are dead and I'm afraid I will not see them blossom again.

Dear Vincent won't you come? Come to visit before the fall.