I’m baffled, wordless. I am tempted to ask you to take a picture – I don’t want to sound paranoid, but are you sure she’s Erika? Maybe your mind is playing a strange game. Maybe she only looks like her, just that bit to make your neutrons roll.
Enough with my skepticism, what you described seemed to me like a wonderful evening, one of those magical evenings which exist outside of time and space and make cradle for love.
Ungaretti said in one of his most beautiful poems,
and like carried away
Whomever you met – Erika, or Julia – you shared a night and your soul; and this can only change things. There’s a part of me that hopes she’s real, that you’ll have access to a soul which darkened the minds of many people, a soul that’s been bathed in black but is now quiet in the light. Another part of me just thinks we’re deluding ourselves, with a lookalike that our minds love to have, because it’s so easy to superimpose what we want.
But maybe it’s just me being over cautious. Forgive me, but in this world that brings us to always overshare, our interactions are only via letters; you can be Erika for all I know, chilling out on the beach after having killed Alessio.
Bad joke, I apologise.
I guess you’re gonna meet her again – it is destiny now, what I see; dots and crumbles that connected, looking back, directly here, to this moment in time. And in two or three months time, who knows which crumbs we will have followed, what roads we will have taken.
Of all the roads one can follow, love is the most unknown one.
I just hope our memories of the lives we’ll live soon will be worth keeping, and not haunting our sleep.
I’m really looking forward to hearing from you soon, very soon.