We’ll never have Sevilla

I’m leaving town because i met you but i didn’t have the guts to reach you. Because i’m not your kind of visitor, adventurous and free. Because I’m just a little quiet weird self conscious woman, citizen of a noisy apartment in a noisy town which i hate and desperately want to leave, and desperately can’t. A town you — as you once mentioned — would be too afraid to fall in love with and never want to leave. A town filled with noisy and voluptuous women — that are not me.
And now, as I walk through these streets pouring out whatever fills this hole I get in my whole body whenever I think of you, whenever I think of that little time that passed by us as something incomprehensible, unearthly and rare, I see that the only choice I have is just to let go. Because that’s what you do when someone strikes you as hard as you did me. So I let you go — you, that are so free, so very of this world and so very little mine, and I leave too. Who knows where to, who knows why. I’m leaving as if I was never even here, as if I had never met you.
