Brno
A beautiful, difficult relationship
Of many companions of a lifetime, it happens to let go of those we like the most, while we stay close to others who make us unhappy. Strange as it may seem, some sort of admiration for somebody might create a sense of uneasiness that blocks any relation, and in the meantime we can’t get rid of an unpleasant acquaintance.
Over two years after we first met, I still choose in my life a friend of this latter kind, although she tries my patience as no one has ever done before. Even with so many things of her that I can no longer stand, Brno remains my soulmate. Around her my days are spent. With her I make up my plans. From her I draw my inspiration.
Brno fascinated me not at first, but surely at a second glance. She didn’t smile or whisper gentle words; she just showed herself to me as she does to everyone else: sober and proud. She offered me exactly what I was looking for, except for a sweetness that I had to learn how to live without.
Brno is not beautiful; at least her beauty is not as shiny as that of her sisters Prague and Vienna. Still Brno has her own charm, that she keeps not hidden, but she wouldn’t even show off. She is marvellous and elegant in some of her aspects, clearly more authentic than those little pearls lying across the Moravian and Bohemian lands. Some of these sparkling features dazzle those who meet her, while other qualities are to be found deep down in her character.
Brno the Majestic, the Classy, is a woman behaving like a girl who knows how to appear young and how to stay strong. She loves to work hard to keep her things in order, and she knows how to receive praise.
There are, however, parts of her great past which are just left over in the memory, moulding and stinking. This is because Brno needs constant energy in order to maintain her values, to keep her charm shining and her wealth growing, to give a bit of something to everyone, while keeping away the buffoons and the tramps, bearing the complaints of those who expect the moon from her.
With Brno yoyu can have fun beyond any limit of imagination or decency. You can meet her out for a special night, and she will always be punctual and impeccable, a partner that will not remain unnoticed; but the day after she could behave just as though nothing happened: she will walk with her head down and a distant glance, or she could even re-form the gaps between you and her, and with her cold temperament destroy any intimate feeling. Brno is used to being treated badly, to being ignored and disappointed, and when you are a stranger, you’ll hardly find her in a good enough mood to welcome you.
Living her life at its fullest is what makes Brno a figure of a thousand faces and a thousand passions. Not everyone, though, is ready to accept the most human passions of this wise, old lady who has seen everything, and still needs to make a compromise with the harshness of life in order to preserve her juvenile grace.
Brno was cheated by vainglorious foreigners, and now she’s courted and offended by roamers escaping from their homes, carrying along their baggage of incurable complaints.
I’ve met many around Brno saying how well they know her, but sooner or later, everyone seems to get tired of her. I’ve even met many who can only criticise her. Their disappointment doesn’t surprise me.
Every time I leave her, I feel cold, same as I do when I wish her good night. I try to move towards another refuge, but I can’t stop thinking of her. I still see myself in long walks next to her; and when she’s again in front of me, I look with wide open eyes at all of those things that I’m never ashamed of admiring.
And I write of her. I can write about Brno without having to be far from her. There are some characters, some seasons, some places you could write of only when they are far away, but what I think and I see of Brno can be written every day, simply because she would still remain distant.
When she smiles at me or when she offends me instead, I feel the same passion that I felt when I started to discover her. I may get bored and disappointed; but I still wish that I will once see myself as the one who really knows her. I’ll need to stop her from breaking all intimacy, until she will open herself to me in the same struggling way I open myself to her.
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