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| | mercredi, mai 19, 2004

We are in your hotel room, getting bored. I don't know what to do with my arms and legs. Sit or stand. Where? It's been a while since I've last seen you and you look fresh, cool and alert. Younger.
I wish there was a swimming pool in the room. Anything to get rid of this sweaty, hot feeling. You seem as restless as I am, looking at me with dark shiny eyes, trying to get inside me.
I think about past decisions taken and start to feel worse and worse, unsure, arms still moving around without purpose one hand fidgetting with the other.
I blink and suddenly there's a swimming pool in the room. It looks old. We are in an extremely big old hotel in Romania. You have just taken a dive. I watch your body in the black swimsuit and it looks so good. I never expected you to have such a muscular, firm body with a nice even tan. I want to touch you but you back away. Hurt, because I have rejected you before. I try to kiss you and eventually you give in, hesitating but excited. I realize that all the effort I have put into avoiding this, is completely wasted. Because feeling is always stronger and sexual attraction is an animal instinct that cannot be tamed by reason. I tell you this. You reply that I am only playing with feelings, changing my mind all the time, caring only about myself. It's true. I only hurt others. But we make love anyway. You are me, everything is familiar. Every curve of your body feels like I have touched it before.
We have been waiting so long for this to happen. But when it does, I realize that it's just sex. Sex with someone you are close too: good and exciting. The kind that makes you continue your day whistling with a big smile on your face. And hot blushes when you think back of what you were doing. But it's not something life changing. I used to think it would destroy my whole life and yours. That it would make me long for you in such an acute way that I wouldn't be able to survive. A passion bringing us closer to death than to life. And we both want life so very much. We know we could be perfect partners in a world without time. But here we are out of sync. Here we both live at a different point in time. Stuck. Glued to minutes, dates and years.
I wake up crying, missing you or at least a part of you that I will never see again. Maybe it's only on a subconscious level that we can be synchronized and I can live with the fact that we can't make love outside our dreams. But I just wish it was next year. Or any year. Except this one.

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