︎Intimacy is not just our relationship with people
Intimacy is not just our relationship with people. It is also our way of relating to objects, places, books, images, tastes, and smells, a reflection of our desperate need to feel "at home".
I memorized each and every object that surrounded our relationship, with the acuity of a person who’s hallucinating. I didn’t believe I was capable to see everything with this painful beauty. Everything became essential. How could I explain to someone that because of him being the significant other, I can easily reflect in all these things around me, things that were here before me and there will still be after me? I knew the way his skin looked like when he was cold. The way he was putting his cigarette pack on the table. His red, wool sleepers. But most of all, I became intimate with all the houses he lived in. A house cannot disappear, isn’t it? The aroma of my tea on the window side. The way I was always the one locking the door. I even liked the double click. It felt familiar and made me feel at home. But first and foremost, I developed a close relationship with all the window views from these houses. Looking through those windows made me believe love is immortal. Like that view. His breathing while asleep, behind me, the silence of the house, the raindrops on the window, the buildings in the far end. They know me, I know them, they’ve been there for me while I was happy. My love will last as long as this view will exist in front of my eyes.