48 Hours of you

Mon Cherie Bru,

Freezed. The city was deserted, everyone was holed up in the house like mouses with cats stationed outside the door. The house of European power was under the check of the so-called terrorists, for me only selfish fools. But it was fine with us. We took the opportunity to make love: 48 hours between red tapestries, black and fluffy pillows, sofas to play and squeaky and indiscreet beds.

We went out to break the moment and to show courage, to face the fear with awareness. The human being is afraid when he is something to lose, something he cares a lot but we had ourselves and no fear of losing ourselves.

Then came the subtle November rain which, like the Goddess, took us back to the protected and enchanted nest. And there she called Bacchus with a lovely Trentino Pinot Grigio and Edith Piaf to sing us "Les amants d’un jour". And we started humming it together. And you spent hours making me learn it, to me that I couldn't pronounce French. We sang it loudly to make everyone hear that we were alive, drunk and in love.

Time did not seem to pass and then we sat down to watch a movie "The great beauty" in Italian. And this time I was helping you. Suddenly a caress was enough to turn off the TV and turn on the passion.

The evening came and you brought me to the airport with sorrow and understanding, knowing that it would be the last time. "Non Je ne regrette rien" – I will not forget you, you told me.

“Neither do I” I replied.

Adieu ma cherrie. Tu es belle ma Bruxelles.

Good bye my dear. You are beautiful my Bruxelles.

28.02.2020                  your N.G.G.

PS

This same house, years later, looks the same as before, only richer in your travels and experiences. Everything tells about you and your beauty: the walled fireplaces, symbol of a majestic past, the corner bookcase, full of Lonely Planet with distant places and photographs, the mirror with the golden frame, imposing above the fireplace, the statuette of the Indian Kali, the candle of Buddha.

And finally through the large window you can see the hidden and enchanted garden, the corner of peace where you take refuge after your travels to smoke your cigarette and to think about your past and future trips.

And now that I am writing these words sitting on the armchair in front of the sofa, theater of our passion, it seems to relive those moments and taste our kisses again and hear the sound of our shy bodies moving together. We do not have many things in common or many objects but the important thing is to collect memories, if possible, beautiful.