a map

“You know, love is all about geography,” her eyes gleamed with something indistinct and she wasn’t really smiling but there was something mischievous about her lips. “That’s why it seems like ages when we are away from our loved ones for just a week if they’re in a different city or country. The further they are, the more we miss them. Have you ever noticed that? That’s because the heart mimics the world —the same way you have a house in this world, you have a house inside the heart of people who love you, and the heart knows when people are not where they belong and the heart feels it’s wrong.”

“Are you saying you can fit an exact copy of my place inside your tiny chest?”

“Well, not an exact copy. I suppose it has the general quality of your house. You’d feel at home there. But it’s different, the heart has a geography of its own. Some people get to live in good neighbourhoods, some people live in faraway villages that we know are really hard to get to, some people seem to be hiding inside a thick forest but you know when you finally make the trip to get there they’ll be waiting with some nice tea and good stories to tell. Some people we must send to exile. Some people live right next to our own place and we know we can knock anytime and the door will always be open. Our heart’s neighbours sometimes live quite distant from us in real world geography, so that’s not something we should go by.”

“Where do I live?”

“Well I won’t tell you. Obviously that’s a secret. Maybe I don’t even know it myself. But I can tell you it’s a nice street, with lots of trees, and every time I’m on my way there I bump into doggies having a walk and strangers smiling softly. It’s always sunny, like you live inside the movies’ golden hour, and it’s warm, I guess, but with a fresh breeze so it doesn’t get damp and uncomfortable. I like it there.”

oct 11 2016