Emilia

– Sleeping train to Berlin –

 

Emilia:

Good morning! Did you sleep well?

 

Stranger:

Morning! Yes, I actually did, and you?

 

Emilia:

Not really. One time I felt that it was too hot, another time it was too cold. So I took a walk a long the train. Then I could get a little sleep. Anyway, I will be right back. Should I take the key, or will you open the door for me when I knock?

 

Stranger:

I will open the door for you.


 

Emilia:

I was smoking on the other cart. Hehehe…

 

Stranger:

Oh I see, that’s why it smells like tobacco.

 

Emilia:

Oh, excuse me!

 

Stranger:

No, no! No problem!

 

Emilia:

So, are you living in Berlin?

 

Stranger:

Yes, I am. I am working there. What about you? Do you live there?

 

Emilia:

Oh no, I am going there for a divorce date.

 

Stranger:

Oh, sorry to hear that…

 

Emilia:

Nah, it is okay.


 

Stranger:

So, where are you from actually?

 

Emilia:

I am from Budapest.

 

Stranger:

Oh, but you speak German so well. Have you lived in Germany?

 

Emilia:

Well yes. I lived in Germany for 20 years, 7 years from it I spent in Berlin for the marriage. I was working in München for 10 years, then I got diagnosed with Immune Disorder Disease that forced me to retire by 39 years old. Can you imagine? 39 years old and retired?!

 

Stranger:

…. I am sorry to hear that.

 

Emilia:

Don’t be. I am not. I have a good life. I have a daughter who speaks many languages and now residing in Budapest. I now have more free time to explore. More time to learn English. I dislike that language. I am terrible with the pronunciation. It is so difficult. I just have no desire to learn it. Hahaha…

 

Stranger:

-smiled- Oh, it is arriving in Berlin!

 

Emilia:

Yeah… here it is again – from the way she stared through the window, one could sense her longing and pain, all the possible memories she had in Berlin, main station –

 

Stranger:

It was really nice meeting you. I wish you a good life and take care.

 

Emilia:

Thank you. I think we will see each other again, one always meets twice in life. Take care.

———————— Hugged and went separate way ————————

 

Saturday

If I really die by Saturday

Will I repine?

 

If I really die by Saturday

Will I be condemned to hell?

If I really die by Saturday

How will I be remembered?

If I really die by Saturday

Will I last in their memory?

If I really do die by Saturday

 

Sky

You are like the sky

Far above my reach

Your eyes are the sky

so blue so clear

From below here I cherish you

like the night sky sprinkled with starlight

You are like the sky

Never will I reach

Tho you surround my world

Your eyes so mesmerising

Your stories so whimsical

The feeling is magical

And it’s ending without starting

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cecile

 

I saw you standing there, with your empty eyes, staring to the tomb stone…

You moved like a flowing silk between the graves. For every fallen bouquet you took your time to fix it. You said to me, “it makes me feel good.”

Your eyes were surprised of my presences, you said to me “I thought you were the death. But I guess, I am not coming home today again…”

That day was sunny, never ever Paris was that sunny, tho it was windy. So you gave me your jacket, you said “put this on. I am afraid the wind will break your bone.”

Then you smiled. I knew it then, you’d fallen for me, or so I thought…

Maybe you pitied my weak bones. Maybe my presence caught you by surprise. For whatever reason you fell for me, I was content.

The sun was setting as you whispered to my ear, “I miss Cecile. I’m going home to her now. You wait here for your death, mine is coming, Cecile is coming…”

I walked away with tears in my eyes. I wasn’t the death, you were waiting for. Never had I ever been that death. I was just a passerby in your world. How could I wait for my death, after I knew that there had only been Cecile in your life. Whom I should come home to?

 

Montparnasse——

My Dear

My dear,
I see no tears in your eyes
But an open wound in your sight
I hear no whining from your lips
But a long yearning within your breath
I too know this story well
For I also walk this path
Long and rocky
High and dry
Then why don’t you come and hold me
So we could through this way hand in hand

*15th July 2015, Jakarta