I lived with her for four months. All
love and no fight. She began writing her phd thesis. I began mine too. The
shroud of misery that I wear sometimes slowly dissolved in the sunlight. I
learned to sidestep my unhappiness. For the first time, I started listening to
music in some earnestness. Music that has never entered my ears. I conceded
that music, like other art, wants to tell us something. There was an expansion
of time within itself. Four months elongated and gave birth to little threads of
time. And then they detonated.
It is not that I was attracted to
her in any sense. On the contrary, I do not like the extreme virtue combined with
a certain reflexivity that renders her sexuality defunct. Perhaps, all I am is
sad that she is leaving. I am a diviner of her moods and misgivings, my ears to
the ground beneath her feet wherever she is. All those soon-to-be redundant
skills need to be rehabilitated. I was oblivious to the upheavals around me. I
have terribly neglected them. I must descend to retrieve them.
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