Bahab

“I could not come here, if you hadn’t existed,

 I could not love this city,

 I could not understand its way… “

When I saw my little “windmill” in the balcony, I remembered that song. Then it came to my lips. If he hadn’t been, I could not come here, I would not want it. But I am in Madrid, in his city. I am sick. I have fever. My throat is terrible and I am alone. But anyway it is nice. It is nice although he enjoys without knowing that I am thinking these. He must enjoy. Did not I want him to be with met o make him happy? So he must enjoy. With me or without me, it doesn’t matter. I am also smiling because I know that he enjoys. I think I am a more tolerable person, as if I hadn’t got pains because of my being a tolerable person. I am scared that the more I love here and the people living here, the more I will love him. I must have an end. When I recall him, he must leave a kind smile on my lips and go. He mustn’t bring tears then.

I came here to leave the Mediterranean Sea behind, when he had already put Atlantic Ocean between us.

I am in Spain and I started to write something again. Actually that is enough!