I see many friends writing about vulnerability in the last year especially. Probably my selective perception (or my social media algorithms for that matter). I want to write about strength. The invincible, unbreakable, world-shattering strength in femininity.

Owning our Strength

On a mundane level of worldly affairs; we women as the manifestation of the feminine energy do suffer from pressure of doing it all and doing it best, disadvantages in professional setting, being feared and supressed because of our nature time and again.

From a higher perspective though the essence of feminine is power; there is no way of hiding from it. There is power in the physical and energetic bodies, scientifically proven to be more resistant to pain and capable of the epitome of creation. From neurological standpoint women have more connection with and awareness of their emotions. This may create a lot of turmoil in daily affairs, become overwhelming at times for both ourselves and our beloveds. However, it also gives the colour to our loves and makes the body-mind connection relatively stronger in a woman. The power of a women`s mind can make or break worlds as history proved again and again.

This strength is not about muscles, leadership skills or material power. Every single woman has her own unique form and expression of her inner strength. As much as I welcome being authentic with our vulnerabilities we can be trapped in the role of a victim by now owning our strength at the same time.

I was always labelled as the ‘strong’ one. Whenever there is a circle of sharing, among the first thing people would praise (or criticize!) about me was my strength! I have a very beautifully developed mask of the strong woman. For many years I suffered from that mask as I thought people were harsher to me than they would be to a more ‘vulnerable’ woman, or I would intimidate them very easily without being aware of what is really causing these reactions. So, there was a time that I hated being ‘the strong one’. Until I embraced all the suffering I hid under that mask. I am stepping slowly into my authentic strength letting go of the manufactured one😊 I wish you all a rich life where your true colours and power shine like a star.

So I invite you all to ask yourself where your strength lies and how you express it in life. Please feel free to share your experiences and insights in the comments section or my facebook page.

Recently I put a post on facebook saying that I was recovering from a bad flu and asked for the care and attention of my friends. The moment I read the first reactions I wanted to erase the post. It was so awkward to express publicly that fragile state. In my understanding these states are lived and overcome behind closed doors, not publicly displayed. My understanding is such bullshit.

Recently I took part at an intense psycho-spiritual retreat by my master Prem Baba. The psychology domain acknowledges that all the states we deem to be aware of or not, the patterns that we act upon are rooted in our childhood. That doesn’t necessarily require a hard-core traumatic experience in that period. The same is valid for people who have been raised by loving parents with a lot of care. A child requests unconditional love at any moment in her way. This desire is so strong and limitless there is no parent who can really provide that 100%. Any moment this love is not provided (which are actually many) is recorded as a trauma. So the child meets emotions like anger and hate while she is teeny-tiny. Once she gets on her feet strategizing about how to get that love starts. Being scolded at by parents and moments of not being loved are causing the child to feel un-worthy; based on a very linear logic the child thinks ‘I am not good enough to be loved as I am; I need to be more strong / beautiful / smart / disciplined’ (and the list goes on and on, with new items added every now and then). Only then they will love me; that ideal is the one who deserves the love of the parents. When she is not fitting that ideal not only is she unworthy of her parents’ love but she is not worthy to deserve her self-love. So do we grow up physically but remain a child internally unless we go through some extra-ordinary spiritual awakenings. We continue pursuing this ideal and trying to fix this issue of love with our parents by gathering their replicates into our circle as friends or partners. The same scenarios keep on happening and we chase our own tail with the hope that this time we will make the other person love us.

ftsSome years ago, when I was tired of relationships I got into Irvin Yalom; how he explained the root cause of many relationship patterns according to this model in his work ‘Existential Psychotherapy’. However he also underlined that there is no end to this analysis of childhood traumas; each one of them refers to some fundamental fear deeply enrooted in humanity; therefore an adult eventually has to accept that she is a grown up and own the responsibility of her life. I got the message wrong that time. It is not enough to ‘announce’ our adulthood to take the responsibility of our lives; we also need to stop blaming our family or any other external factor for whatever happened to us and confront ourselves. This confrontation starts with seeing truthfully all of our darkness, anger, hatred, jealousy, envy, guilt, laziness and many other low emotions; accepting with gentleness that they do exist even if we have the nicest smile on our face. If you skip this step of confrontation and follow some spiritual teachings seeking some peace you may have some momentary release but it ends up being a mental masturbation.

I was always interested in this psychological aspects; perceiving everyone around me as a mirror of my light and darkness inside thanks to my dear friend Vivian. Whenever I got triggered by someone I would immediately look inwards, ask myself why I was triggered, which emotions came up. If something ‘bad’ happened the same mind-set kicked in; why did I invite this into my life? Questions any new-age spiritualist should ask herself, right?! However this analysis became so complex my internal balance shifted and some inner voices who really enjoy the suffering of beating myself up became louder. During this period my dear friend and teacher Laura put my pieces back together explaining me that ‘with each piece of awareness a balloon pops up into the surface so that we can just pop it. You however push so many balloons up they start suffocating you’. Now I can see that the child who worked so hard on revealing those balloons was still chasing her self-made ‘ideal’ and considered every part of me which didn’t live up to that ideal as darkness. So the whole work was just in the surface; first I needed to notice that ideal and remember where it came from. Otherwise, the rest is just mental masturbation as I said earlier.

Spiritual PsychosisPsycho part is covered but which part of this is spiritual then? When all these balloons are up on the surface, when there is a full-combat towards the self-destruction of ego one can only take it up to a certain limit. Ego is our soldier for self-preservation after all; it resists being killed and may put all of our systems into error. Therefore when the load gets too much to carry there is a need for surrendering to a higher will, a cry for help. Some turn towards science or nature; others to a higher consciousness. At this moment any person should choose to wear what suits their complexion best, but shouldn’t go out naked in the cold.

“When the seeker arrives, a healing work begins to address one’s emotional wounds and to purify the heart’s ailments from the past. This work continues until one can be in harmony with one’s past and be liberated from it; until one can look back and truly be thankful for absolutely everything that has happened in one’s life. At this moment, one is ready to be reborn in spirit. In fact, this is when the spiritual journey actually begins. Everything up until this point was merely a psycho-spiritual work of healing and transforming one’s lower nature.”

It is a hard job to crack the heart open. For years my spiritual teachers kept on bugging me ‘You have to work on the heart, work on Anahata; there is no other way’. Yeah yeah… Well I did work on the heart, did my asana practice, my meditation, tried to say ‘I want everything for you, I want nothing from you’ again and again, but it didn’t really sink in. Because I want to be loved, held, protected, supported, adored, spoiled. I want it all. How is this going to work? If I don’t get what I want I turn into a text-book example of spiritual texts on love revealing all the symptoms of a child whose toy has been taken away.

Cracking the heart openYoga is an important practice. Some live flooded by emotions, others stuck between narrow walls of the mind. In between these two one may be so suffocated by the shadow that a bright state of comprehension, a mind-blowing piece of art, the intoxicating smell of jasmine, the simple magic of any blissful moment can pass by unnoticed. There comes yoga to introduce a harmonious flow to the mess, a thorough cleansing of the zilllions of dust particles in the mind. Once peace is restored there opens another door, towards the core of those particles, the pit of the rabbit hole.

So I knocked at that door and the first stop was compassion. I guess we all know by now, every person we encounter acts as a mirror. Whenever we are triggered by an action or word we need to look at ourselves, ask what in us hurts instead of trying to break the mirror. Only then can the evolution begin. When suffering presents itself there are some standard ways we react. Either avoiding it by any means, being repulsed by it or playing the hero. Masters say responding to suffering with suffering generates pity whereas love leads the way to compassion. And compassion is the only way to transform suffering which we fear so much, trying our very best at all times to stay away from. Well said, but what is compassion really? How do we find it when there is so much envy, fear, anger and frustration lingering in the hearts of us all, no matter how well we manage to hide them behind our masks?

Many words, many ways, many methods and they all find you when it is time. They offer another option to the judging, labelling, discriminating mind; not an easy job. There is space for a lot more reflection and contemplation on compassion.

Cracking the heart openMy second stop was joy. This is a state hidden in the heart, more explosive than happiness, more refined than pleasure. All is well, but joy is not there in my life these days and it troubles me. Until recently I did suffocate myself a little trying to figure out who am I, what am I doing, what will I do with this ‘I’, trying to see through the subtle layers of my existence. I felt like chasing my own tail. However, life kept flowing. Another beautiful thing about yoga is the practice grants one the ability to still flow and keep the windows open for sunlight even if you are hopping in and out of dark holes. When you fall or rise, it is just an impermanent state which doesn’t really define who you are. Life can be harmoniously progressing in this awareness. Still, joy, or lack of it thereof is an issue. All those meditations and practices didn’t unlock that section of the heart. So Maha Shakti, the nature gave me a slap so that I could let the suffering go. A strong fever burned down all the heaviness in me. The wheel of joy started spinning in my heart while I was just observing what was happening.

Then the ride led me to the ‘butterfly’ stop. The heart not feeling any need to ‘settle’ anywhere cozy and safe but rather dances from one flower to another. Spreading the wings wide open without any fear of being caught. I loved this stop, I want to pass by here again and again feeling, expressing the lightness and beauty of this magical creature . Nice to fly out of the box!

Once getting used to greeting the baba’s situated in various spots around the Ganga with a ‘Hariom’ I decided I am finally settled. Now I have a cozy room with a heater, candles and all, Baba’s I greet, some friends with whom I exchange a few words and some little routines. So I may as well stay here for months. However I could only extend my stay for one more week and even that was difficult. I stressed about the tickets I burn, doubts about my intentions for wishing to stay longer while the whole trip is pre-organized. Do I want to stay with Prem Baba longer, do I want to enjoy this feeling of being settled, am I lured by the muscular arms of a beautiful man or do I just want to enjoy having the possibility and freedom to make this change in plans? Eventually one more week of Rishikesh. (Don’t get too hung up on the muscular arms, the story is not getting erotic; just looking, not touching…)
Sri Prem BabaMy affection to Prem Baba continues. The strong effects of the first encounter mellowed down; at some moments I spaced out during his satsang but I don’t bother much about all these shifts. According to him the story is pretty simple and straight forward; ‘connect your heart to my heart’ and I formally connected my heart to his. For the ones who are not familiar with this type of spiritual initiation; it is a ritual where you surrender to a Guru. In Ottoman culture, parents used to give their kids to a master, an artisan to be trained using the expression ‘his flesh is yours and his bones are mine’. In a way you do the same yourself towards your master by taking a deeksha. I didn’t necessarily have a divine feeling of surrender in me; I just wanted to connect to the amazing heart opening I have experienced through this bond I create with the master. At the final stage of this little ritual the master was about to put a string to my left wrist, which he had blessed. I already had many white strings put by Swami during the monthly final ceremonies we have at the school concluding a cycle of teaching. Before putting the string on, Swami usually checks in with you asking ‘this is for protecting you from obstacles on your path, do you want it?’ Prem Baba, without a moment of hesitation just cut all the strings, put his red string on instead and handed me the old ones to give to Ganga. I loved the clarity in his action. This whole string story is quite interesting; when I first started with Agama years ago I received the white string from Swami after the completion of my level 1 intensive training, which stayed on my wrist for three years. I’d go to posh parties and dinners totally dressed up with a worn out, dirty string on my left wrist. When I was about to head back to the island to receive the teacher training; just one week before my arrival the string got lose by itself. And now again one week before going back to the island I separated from it.

The monkey situation in Rishikesh is pretty intense. They lurk around the bridge connecting both sides of the Ganga and whenever they see any piece of food in a by-passers’ hand or bag they jump on it. A few days ago I saw one by the fountain at the end of the bridge. He approached the fountain, turned the tap on, drank and then turned it back off! I get it, monkeys are smart animals and all but turning the tap off?! My human fellows hardly do it in public bathrooms.

Of course days do not pass by in a rose garden; I have been through many internal turbulences. I even started to write down ‘reporting from the darkness the sequel’ but I realized that throughout the whole piece I was making fun of my situation rather than expressing my suffering so I decided that my suffering bits were out of order at that moment and turned off my computer.

RishikeshLet me tell you a bit more about Prem Baba’s satsang that he gave on the occasion of the 21st of December; the supposed end of the world as we know it according to Mayan calendar. In short he explained that we are moving from the sexual revolution to the phase of spiritual revolution. The sexual revolution starting in the 60’s improved the space of women, this high energy became a bit more free but didn’t yet reach its ultimate target; the heart. So actually that revolution still continues. At that time the spiritual seekers were excited by the sexual revolution and the seekers of the now are thrilled with the current one which will result in ‘law of minimum effort’. According to this law humanity will be able to have better access to using their gifts and talents; progress faster and with more ease. Use of gifts and talents is the dilemma of my life. My job as a trained race horse was to focus on what needs to be done. The gifts and talents that I am born with was more of a secondary issue for a breed like me who has a certain level of intelligence. I call this state ignorance of a bright mind. Therefore throughout my college years I strayed from my career and success-oriented path for impulses towards dancing, climbing mountains or travelling to unknown lands. This episode was followed by a stressful effort to compromise between what is in the heart and what is in the mind. Only when reaching the thirties a middle path starts showing its traces. On this occasion I decided to visit a famous astrologer here to find out more about what lies on my path. As you can read I am a very active, dynamic, enthusiastic spiritual tourist; I put my nose into everything offered. Out of blue this astrologer started telling me that I should dance; that I used to be a mystical dancer in Egypt in my past life and that my painful compromise will reach an end from mid 2013 on. Once I got these good news I immediately rushed to get the yellow sapphire ring he recommended me to wear. Why to resist such a sweet temptation; I am spiritual and have a beautiful ring now to go with it!

Prem Baba dives into many issues; stresses how the internal changes are getting faster and faster in this phase. This intensity also brings along some suffering and the only way to progress is surrendering to this change. He talks about relationships, the fight between the idealist mind and the heart, the inner negotiations we have with ourselves and our insistence to relive certain dramas in our lives again and again. Some of his words find their echo in my mind and I note them down, whereas others lead me to day dreaming.

Today I met my puja friends by the Ganga. Lorraine said that her mother stopped going to the church when she was a child once she found out that the donations collected were spent on buying a new org. She didn’t consider that as a valid way of spending the donations. Now after all those decades she started to go to church again, because only there she could meet people who are kind to each other. We are banging our heads against each other all the time in offices, streets, restaurants, bars… If there is a revolution happening with the 21st of December impetus then one of its symptoms may be this collective obnoxiousness I am afraid. I hope that we are indeed at a breaking point and I wish lots of light, love, harmony and kindness for us all in 2013.

I don’t have a place in anybody’s life.

This is the dark side of my much beloved solitude.

As many other women subjected to a high culture from their childhood on, I have a slightly longer distance between my inner world and what I project outside. High culture may sound snobbish to the reader and the reader is correct; I am a snob. However this time I use it in its scientific meaning; a culture with highly developed social norms and etiquette. They tend to be broken easily in the chaotic, hedonistic, superficial urban life; as flexibility is not one of the qualities of such a sophisticated set of values. So what I personally end up with is a deep rooted belief system shaped by highly specific norms and qualities which can only survive in their natural habitat, except I wasn’t born in that habitat!

One of the important rules is no unpleasant emotions or extremely pleasant emotions are to be displayed in public. Not because we are psychopaths, on the contrary it is out of respect to the inner worlds of everyone around. Our unpleasant moods or extreme happiness shouldn’t trigger and cause discomfort to others. So it comes from a place of respect and compassion; beautiful…

I mastered it quite well for a long time (except for my outburst of joy or anger in the confines of a much closed circle) but my quest in life brought me to a place where the inner world needs to meet and connect with the outer. The natural disasters as well as the miracles happening in the inside may as well be contained; valid choice. Turns out; it cannot be my path any longer as it is not serving me and creating diseases in my body. My path is about bringing awareness to this circus inside, value it compassionately knowing that it does not define who I am, still allow it to gently pour out of me. The latter is a challenge, still unknown territory. I am trained to be composed, as any other human being I am working my ass off to be the ideal I set for myself. Let me clarify; the ideal doesn’t only mean the achievement of certain, set social goals to be loved, respected and appreciated. It also contains the zillions of personality traits, some of which contradicting the other, however all deemed valuable and stored in the hard-drive called subconscious throughout my life. So in the different corners of my mind there is this me in her ideal form and shape that my programming strives to achieve; me as I managed to master up till now and performs in the social life, parts of me that I am totally unware of and the me who observes this play. There may be a couple of others that I miss out now but you get the picture; pretty crowded in there.

SolitudeAnd there are moments when I am right in between the inner and the outer. Not resting peacefully in myself or performing for the outside world but just looking and trying to figure out what is real at that moment. The real, when I started with this writing was finding no place for myself. So I want to look into that. What causes that sentiment? On the surface there are several triggers. It is more difficult to find common points to even have simple conversation about with my family as our worlds seem to grow further and further apart. I feel tired of being the ‘eccentric yogini’ when I meet my old friends; that many things I do seem super interesting and also weird to them. I happened to go through several relationships recently where I felt in the periphery, like a pleasant guest who doesn’t want to overstay; afraid she won’t be welcome anymore should she wish to relax and settle in. While thinking about all this another part of me was screaming ‘bullshit, you have so much love in your life’ but I didn’t want to listen to that part. Yes there is a lot of love in my life. This doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t face the shadow making me feel like I don’t belong. I don’t only want to think that I belong to everyone and everywhere as long as I am rooted in myself; I also yearn for the full comprehension of it. There are many ways leading to such a connection and one is to be able to look into the face of the evil within. That evil may only be a part of me that I manufactured to protect myself from pain and I am grateful for it. Just; it is time to let go.

A few moments in my shadow later I received a message from a friend far away. He was explaining me about a deep connection he had with me during a meditation yesterday, how he truly experienced us both reaching bliss and how he realized that I am an anchor in his life. The controversy hidden in this synchronicity pops up as a naughty little elf in the sky pointing its fingers at me, shouting out loud ‘you silly little idiot’ and laughing.

Does that message erase all the doubts and worries? No. My work on this is too deep to be carried away with one spark. But it does show me the nature of this life; as it is called beautifully in Sanskrit Leela; the divine dance.

I have thoughts about him in my mind, more often that I’d like. This state is unsettling. I was even feeling guilty for becoming obsessive. Then I remembered; this is not a coincidence; this is not just a random state. When the mind is so pre-occupied with something (someone) specific better look into it. The more I look into it the more I realize it is not about him that much; but more about a feeling of unfulfillment. I am not getting what I need.

There is something fundamentally wrong about insisting on the way I want to be loved. Not being happy when not getting the attention I’d like. That’s obvious; this is about my expectations and how I feel in control of my life. Nobody has the obligation to fulfill my expectations and being in control of my life is an illusion and a limitation of the mind. However the feeling is there; crystal clear. I am not going to cover it up with some text-book self-suggestions. I feel sad because I am not getting what I need. Not only sad, but also lonely, unworthy and contracted. I feel like a helpless baby. Or a little girl, who wants her father’s attention but he is just busy and she pretends to be OK with that not to further lose his love.

Wounds of the Arrow

I watched a movie some time ago; about a funny and sweet chef who loses his job and had to start from scratch. While he was struggling to get back on his feet his 10 year old son was pretending to be cool with his father taking him to movies and parks but never really connecting with him. Eventually they ended up having a road trip on a food truck with the son helping his father, the father teaching him how to cook. That was the turning point for them, the father being able to share his gifts with his son. He knew how to do that and more importantly he didn’t need to understand what is really going through the mind of a smart and pretentious 10 year old. Simple, direct. This sharing completely changed the dynamics of their relationships, made them a team. I was so sad to realize that my father and I couldn’t find our food truck. That made me cry a lot. Then I also remembered his joy and pride the few times we could play volleyball together; a game we both love, enjoy (and kicked ass!) It felt so good to be in the same team with him. I can remember clearly how he opened up to me when we could do something together simply because we both liked it. No sense of obligation, no calculation, no life lessons to learn or teach. That made me smile a lot. I just wished we could have played more. Maybe my shell would be softer; maybe I’d try less to run inside myself and play cool, constantly attempting to be in control; not to show how hurt I am for not getting what I need. Or maybe not.

And I had to laugh really a lot when my beloved Prem Babaji said not to share such inner journeys with others, because that simply makes us a boring person. A very valid reason indeed! There is also the reason of ego games. Who in you wants to share these processes? Do you need to convince others that this is the way to go; going deep into your patterns and dissolving them? I used to get really pissed off by some friends constantly preaching me with spiritual crap, ‘showing’ how to be or do. Fuck it! So not interesting! In case you are reading these lines, the author is enjoying her journey by playing with words as she loves this toy. Nothing more, nothing less!

Here you go; the words took me from the sharp pain of the arrow to the angelic, child-face of Eros. Walking on the path, jumping up and down, picking up a flower, hiding behind a tree, up and down, up and down…

My nose runs my life at times. I assess the place I enter, the person I’ve met, the ground I step on based on their scents; decide if I like them or not accordingly. A beloved who used to make my head spin with his scent may gently be pushed away once I smell something off about him. Probably the underlying cause is something else, but the sense of smell gives the final verdict; ‘time to move on…’. My nose is capable of time-travel, can take me to a memory from years ago just by being caught by a random scent.

There is one week in my life; I wanted to capture its essence in a perfume, so that I can smell it every now and then, so that I won’t ever forget it.

It was many many years ago, don’t remember when exactly. I was in Ankara in summer time for some reason when everybody else was scattered elsewhere as Middle East Technical University was closing its doors until the new term. Another birthday creeping me out; stirring all the fears of loneliness, lack of self-love compensated temporarily by the love and attention of others was a few days ahead. Everything was in its places; but I was in need of intensity.

I stopped by at the ‘hip pub in town’ with a friend that summer. Never been into pubs or small talks pepped up by the fake courage of a few drinks spreading in one’s veins. The dislike was probably both-ways, I wasn’t really an ideal bar customer; either not drinking or entering other dimensions just after two glasses. On that night I was again convinced that not even the funkiest club ever would help dealing with the void inside and out. Somehow though I found myself (and my friend of course) talking to two guys; filtered out as eligible companions since there were apparently members of ‘our circles’. Despite my protective shield of small talk incompetency I went into a deep conversation with this handsome, sweet guy. No amount of handsome could lower those shields at time, strengthened by my non-flirtatiousness. There was the need for a crack in space and time where only two people fitted in. Another dimension to open up and share all the stories created and to be created and dance all the joy. Yes, I needed that crack.

Capturing the scent of a week

Until I find Mehmet’s photo lighting his cigarette in my living room, this should do. May his path to light be as smooth and beautiful

And I needed the masculine power to guide the travel in that crack. When there is the slight push of a man, his gentle guidance… How strong becomes then the dance of the woman; how creative her force… The very creation is generated by this polarity. Once we remember the natural roles of man and woman (inside and out) hidden under the confusions related to social equality; once we encounter that polarity the play flourishes.

Mehmet was my North and I was his South once we have entered that crack. There are no plans in that dimension. A flow begins according to the laws of nature. It is amazing how many stories are there to tell all of a sudden. All the faded memories hidden in their shelves come out and shine once I share them with him. The fear of losing a mask, revealing a truth diminishes at each step. It is challenging to stay totally naked, but I get as close to it as my awareness at that time allows me to be.

We enter into deep talks in my house those days; which was the ‘in’ place to be, decorated by my drawings and wild colors. There is of course the tension of being man and woman alone under the same roof in the air but we don’t enter that territory at all. There is so much else to experience in that alternate space and time. Yes, there is the obligatory shopping, cooking, outing together. However Mehmet joined me through the toughest torture at that time just after having met me for two days. He stood by my side while I was struggling to get my visa from the Dutch embassy; haha! The queue of dozens of people, my anger towards the disrespectful treatment of my fellow citizens, my fears of not having all documents ready evaporated with the warmth of his shining smiles. Well, the massive guard of the Consulate Şaban’s preferential treatment also helped. On this occasion my heartfelt thanks to dear Mr. Şaban!

MehmetWhenever Mehmet had to stop by at his house to change clothes or run an errand there was no debate; we jumped into my lady car Mübeccel; I’d wait for him outside and we went back to my temple. Then my birthday arrived; with all of my dear friends anywhere else then in Ankara with me. I left the house in the morning to go to the campus without making any plans with Mehmet. On my way back the experienced script writer in me responsible for all the dark stories to prevent the disappointment of any un-fulfilled expectations already decided about the ending of the chapter. And life confirmed the script. The house was empty. I found a piece of paper at the door with no words on. The script writer however had already added a few lines of consolation to the ending. ‘Well, you knew the guy for only a few days anyway’.

However that time-space dimension has a different flow. Before I knew it Mehmet was back. He just had to step out to run an errand, thinking he could keep the door open by putting a folded piece of paper in between (what a genius!). I have no memory of what we did on that day or any day that followed it. Whatever had happened was so fulfilling, nourished my heart so deeply that I don’t need to remember the incidents; or how the crack closed down by the end of the week. Probably I left town as it is usually the case in my life. Or maybe that time he was the one having to leave. In any case the theme of our story was written in capital letters at the very beginning. We gave our souls to each other while we were in that crack. There was no fear, no calculation, no holding back. We knew that we’d stand by each other no matter what. I am here for you, to take care of you, to heal any wound you have, to listen to any story that you want to tell, I am here to be you, you are here to be me. Can this be real? Yes.

Did I ever tell him all that? No, never bothered; he already knew.

I just wanted to capture the scent of that one week (or less) before he decided to leave this life. We both know it all but still; just to smell this perfume whenever needed; whenever we couldn’t fill in the gaps inside by ourselves.