Do you believe in soul mates? Do you really think that you are actually an incomplete, the half of a whole, and that there is a part of your jigsaw that you aren’t even aware is missing? Is it true that we are all made of stardust? I’d like to believe that is true, to be honest. It is a surreal thing to believe in; to have the knowledge, albeit false, that there is something celestial about every breath you take (…every move you make!)
My idea of a perfect evening is a simple picnic basket with beer and sandwiches, good music, a blanket and a car that’s parked on a field after having taken us far away from the city lights and into a world that has more than a few constellation of stars sprinkled all over. Us. Just two of us would be happy in our evening and we would spend it gazing at the magnificent vastness of the sky; talking about how lovely the cupcakes from the bakery we went to last week were, while the breeze carries the sweet smell of tuberoses from a distance. We would trace the wrinkles around each other’s eyes while we laugh at the cat video we had seen earlier that day. We would talk about childhood and reveal our secret places while playing hide and seek in the summer of 2004, and he’d know exactly which place of the terrace I am talking about and I would know exactly where he would take me. We would talk about the future, about pizza and vacations, not in that particular order, while holding hands and counting stars. The metal roof of our car would be as warm as our bodies, and our heads would be bent over backwards while I try to show him the ‘elephant on a scooter’ I could clearly make out in the stars to the East. He would patiently trace my fingers to the exact spot and still be clueless, yet he’d agree and be as excited as I was. That is how he is; the kind of person who would peel an orange for me, because he knows how much I love oranges but hate peeling them; he’s the kind of person who would drag me out of the house to watch the concert of a band I love because he knows how lazy I can get. We would eat a sandwich as a celebration of how we are really made for this weather and the moment that we are in. Just that. We wouldn’t celebrate how perfect we are for each other because that wouldn’t be an honest celebration, but we would lay in that moment and be engulfed in how the stars had aligned to draw us toward each other… Like moth to flame.