View more about Weekend reviews
i think you're leaving
Stone 2022-03-26 09:01:11
Maybe in the future, there will be such an encounter, we borrow each other's body odor, pant the ears, lick the side of the neck, mix the unknown and surprise, linger like saliva, bite the tip of the tongue, touch the skin, enjoy the meat biscuits and the black forest, juice and cream. The silence of dawn is the shadow of last night, like the coffee stains on the sheets, the cassettes in the tape recorder, or the jokes you left on my refrigerator door. I look at you, but I don't dare to look at you directly, so I keep my head down, like a child who has done something wrong. You are proud and natural, you have a beautiful nose, and you look straight at me, I seem to feel self-pity. The dreamlike pleasures of a few hours ago are kept here, and here, and contented, because the squares, the shades and the smells, keep me safe; you are like a fighter, like the gold of the sun outside the window, and I am just a body blue below. You recorded my voice, and the essence of carrying, so different? I love you, but I can't say it. Your name and body, I will remember them, like these pictures on the wall, even if I never see them again. After you left, I could only look out the window to see the traces of your slowly turning back, the green hills and the clouds in the distance. Then, you disappear into all these fictions, and there is no later waiting for me to wait for you, and no later understanding and pain. Days still have to go on, you are just an occasional excitement day and night, you exist in my kitchen, we linger intimately without kissing; you exist on this lazy sofa, we touch each other and frolic; you also Existing anywhere in this room, every kiss you wish would be a self-affirmation of how good it would be to die with you. So, I leaned against you and hugged you tightly; so, you cried because I thought you were leaving and I loved you, but we never said it.
Extended Reading
-
Russell: I can see it that you think... you think I'm a fucking idiot, because I want a fucking relationship.
Glen: Did I say that?
Russell: But the thing is Glen, the thing is Glen, I think that you want one too.
-
Glen: I know what artists sound like when they talk about their art, so I am not going to sit around and sound like a cunt.
Russell: Well, it's a good thing you are not an artist yet, then, isn't it?
Glen: Ohh, verrry funny!