So close that your eyes close as I fall asleep

You walked into my life this day a year ago when you walked into Diesel Cafe in Davis Square and stood in line. I was reading Gone With The Wind for what seemed like the umpteenth time when I heard Paul squeal. He'd spotted you..someone new in *our* coffee shop. Someone tall, buff and cute. As I looked over to where you stood, I held my breath. You looked exactly like someone I imagined myself with. You didn't catch me staring the first time but I suppose you did catch me congratulating Paul on spotting you first (Old rule : Finders keepers).

He sidled over towards you as you stood at the counter ordering your chai. Batted his eyelids at you, made small talk and came back saying you weren't interested in him. I secretly rejoiced and stared at you when I thought your back was turned. Imagined the two of us together arguing over whether we should actually get that muffin to go with the coffees. And then sitting side by side by the window, each reading our newspapers, with my feet playing with yours under the breakfast table.

You picked up your chai and walked towards the door. And then you turned and smiled at me.

YOU smiled! YOU smiled at ME! I flushed and pretended to be absorbed in my book when the whole time I was stunned. Stunned that someone would seem to be interested in me when there were so many other fine specimens of humanity all around. I didn't know what to do or say. I sneaked a look at Paul to see if he'd noticed. He had except he thought the smile was for him. But I knew it wasn't.

Why did you smile at me? Did you notice me staring? Did you see my hands shaking as I "nonchalantly" picked up my coffee and my book and pretended to be engrossed in both? I followed you out of the door with my eyes and watched you sip your chai as you lit up a cigarette. Damn, I thought, he smokes. There goes another dream ruined by the realities of life. You caught me staring and made a move as if you wanted to come back in and talk. I hurriedly looked away and pretended to look at the art on the walls. When I looked again (after what I thought was a decent interval), you were gone.

I went back home elated and disappointed. Elated that a cute guy smiled at me, disappointed that I might never see him again.

Then you changed all that by walking into the coffeeshop again the next day and coming up to me, putting down a cup of Vietnamese coffee in front of me and saying "I asked at the counter and hope this is your drink". And you walked away. You didn't say anything else, make small talk, introduce yourself, anything. And you smiled again.

Your smile promised me I'd see you again. See a lot more of you again. It still does.

Happy anniversary M.
Volim te.

My favourite poem to the one I love: Sonnet 17 by Pablo Neruda.

I do not love you as if you were the salt-rose, or topaz,

or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,

in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms

but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;

thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,

risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.

I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;

so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,

so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,

so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

No random website or current music today.
I want this blog entry to be about us.