Maybe we will meet in ten years or so. In a small cafe, in a city of a foreign land, not yours nor mine. You will have salt & pepper hair and I will have wrinkles at the corner of my eyes. I will stare for a while not knowing what should I do and then I will ask you if I could give you a hug, you will open your arms and for seconds time will stand still and nothing will matter anymore.

We will not speak of the past. I will tell you about my favorite buildings in Barcelona, Buenos Aires, and Seoul. And you will show me your latest photos of all the place you have been and my heart will sink a bit when I glimpse the ones of your family. You will tell me how much you miss your home land and I will tell you how much I still miss my old man.

I will subtly touch your hand to tell you that you still own me and you will gently touch my face to tell me I still live in that small place inside your heart and at the back of your mind.

We will part, not on the promise of meeting again. We will part without me saying what I really wanted to say, but you will know it anyway. We will part and I will continue to keep you inside of me, carrying you everywhere I go, making you this bittersweet song that keeps me warm, having you and the memory of us and what we could have been as my last safe shelter from this cruel world.

My darling, this is not a sad thought. There is no bitterness here, I promise. I’m just courting with the universe so it might have some mercy upon us and let us be, for once, even if it’s for a little while. I will happily take that and be forever grateful.

Stay well,


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