Who else would long for you the way I do?
P.S. Poem 'Lágri di Amor' is from Miguel de Senna Fernandes. Its language is Patuá, a creole language that fuses Portuguese, Malay, Konkani and Spanish. It's spoken - but nearly extinct - by the Macau people near Hong Kong.
P.P.S. Picture 'Moonshine over Macau' (2012) is made by Sinh Truong. Source: here.
"You would use your songs to say the words you couldn't say
And every word you said was about you and me
I loved, everything you wrote and when you would sing
I felt that my heart was falling
You're all that I want
We fuck so hard, it left me faded
For all you are
There is no other love, it's only yours
You're all that I want, all the love"
P.S. Yes and yes - you know.
P.P.S. Picture is from Alessandro Puccinelli: here.
P.P.P.S. "But it's always your eyes that pull me under." (blogpost 9-2019).
Script of ending:
-All right. Here we go.
I've got a very pleasant surprise today.
Comes from an unlikely source.
Walter Gibson.
It is called The Sure Thing.
"'lt could be tonight,' he thought...
"as he stood in the corner, pretending to have a good time.
"He would meet her tonight.
"All his young life, he had dreamed of a girl like this.
"5'6", silky hair...
"trim, nubile body..."
"Nubile," by the way, is spelled with a "u."
"...nubile body that really knew how to move...
"and soft, deeply tanned skin.
"Now, as for personality traits, she needed only one.
"She had to love sex, and all the time.
"To arrive at this moment, he had traveled vast distances...
"enduring many hardships:
"abject poverty, starvation...
"show tunes, you name it.
"From across the room he saw her. She was perfect.
"He knew almost nothing about her, and she didn't know much more about him.
"lt was exactly how it was supposed to be. He brought her to his room.
"The lights were soft, the moment was right.
"Then she leaned over and whispered in his ear:
"'Do you love me?'
"Thoughts raced through his mind. Did she really want him?
"What had he done to deserve this bounty? Does God exist?
"Who invented liquid soap, and why?
"'Do you love me?' Staring into her eyes...
"he knew that she really needed to hear it.
"But for the first time in his life, he knew these were no longer just words.
"And if he said it, it would be a lie.
"'Do you love me?' she whispered.
'Do you love me?'
"lt would not be tonight.
"The answer was'no."'
He was a traitor!
You didn't sleep with her?
Still seeing Jason?
We broke up.
That's too bad.
You didn't sleep with her.
She wasn't my type.
P.S. Ending of The Sure Thing on Youtube: here.
P.P.S I wrote about this movie before in blogpost 'Sure' (2018). Unfortunally I can't find on The Internet a place where I can watch this movie again. I'd love to, together with you at the same time ... after watching together the whole movie, kiss you goodnight and dream away with you in an eternal us.
On November 10th, 1944 Denise Menasce wrote, in Cairo, this love-letter to Paddy:
 |
"Gloom, dep[r]ession, and still more gloom! Darling Paddy, / I always seem to be in a miserable mood when I write / to you. I am sorry, but somehow when I am gay and / full of joie de vivre, I don't feel like writing. It is / only when I am simply gorging in misery that I want to / pour it out of me. [D]o you mind frightfully if your little / imp is[n']t madly impish in her letters? I shall make a / bold attempt to be gay amusing, and if possible / alluring, so as to make you think of me - with, "un / tan[t] soit peu de regret." Darling, it is dreadful, but I / just realized, that I am writing just to write as I have / absolutely nothing worth while to write about."
Is this a law for some lovers? In real life full of questions, attention and abundance. Full of 'joie de vivre'. And in letters a lot of silence, frugal with attention and nurturing a relationship. Like a snail that has withdrawn into its house.
From silence I can deduce everything: depth, mystery, pain, love, too much or too little interest or ... - and everything in between. But I don't want to guess. I just want an answer or explanation from you. And yours alone. And if not ... - you know.
It was on the cemetery of the little village I grew up in. I never told you before about this life-changing event.
On an evening in the summer of 1970 (may be some years earlier or later) a group of 6 to 8 "students" were playing a blasphemous play in the large chapel - by the way a perfect stage for plays - in the middle of the cemetery. Their play interrupted our hide and seek. I was flabergasted. Young adults (boys and girls) doing blasphemous acts on holy ground. How could they? What would our pastor think of this? The police came and arrested them. Everyone was outraged.
