I stare in your eyes and believe that visiting an old lover is a mitzvah, even though you will have to do it alone, as a unique soul mate.

You are experiencing a narrowing of thoughts and air, as if you would survive the chamber in Paltinis, from where you suspect there is no escape but for an up-going one. From time to time a little window, from above, is open and he, the body of the green-eyes monster, casts a glance inside, smiles absent-mindedly, closes back the window and disappears. This whole time you are your own prisoner and can go nowhere; the streets you could have walked hand in hand with him stay deserted.

How can one be everywhere, in every start, in every step? You will not be yourself. The air has its gates; scattered words that catch the shape of the one you will be crossing the window sash with, towards the world as you see it, towards him – embracing him.

You search your heart and ardently worship a God you will never touch. The others, the remaining ones, are nothing but reasons for tender jealousy. Perhaps loving this way is helpful for you – without deciding upon life and death, without the fear for the other, for each hour that can designedly put at risk an entity.

If there was no end, jealousy would seem bearable, as you would know the man leaving you is out there, somewhere and maybe you will meet him again, maybe he will come back, running, to you.

What love is so little that does not think about death, that does not try to defeat it? I even grow fond of the appearance of the shapes once adored, of a whisper calling the wind.

This is why I am asking you ‘visit me alone, as a unique soul mate’. My eyes are burning and they cannot see the future anymore. Beneath your seas of sadness there is always something going on, but telling you so will do nothing for you.