Nuts

     After one month of being apart, we are together again in England. I was missing you, our walks hand in hand, our plans, our talks. By the way, last night we were talking about our favourite painters. When I told you five or six names, there was the comment that they are all dramatic, intense, deformative, Dionisyac and quite nuts. Here they are: Bosch, Bruegel, Caravaggio, Goya, Van Gogh, Frida Kahlo. After a while I also mentioned my favourite philosophers: Heraclitus, Montaigne, Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, Kierkegaard, Sartre. Again most of them are like that, and surely this taste reflects a lot of me.

     I remember one of your first talks, when we were still knowing each other better:

    

             - Are you nuts?

             - Yes, I am.

             - Great!

 

     Now I know that we were talking about that kind of deep, motivating, creative, and colourful madness.

Sick and away from you

     The weather in London, which is usually bad went to worse these last days. It's very cold and rainy. As a result, cold and flu viruses are circulating more intensely. And they have got me. I have been suffering with a sore throat, runny nose and some cough for two days already. Since something bad never comes alone, we had an argument before the weekend and you had to cross the world from Russia to Thailand after facing troubles with the immigration officers in Moscow because of an expired visa. And we were without contacting each other for a few days.

     All I can say is that I have missed you terribly. All along the last weekend I could feel very clearly how important you are to me and how my life is much more meaningful and exciting with you.

     I beg your pardon for my impulsiveness and sharp tongue. I don't want to lose you and I know that neither do you. The last image I keep of you is our goodbye in Prague a week ago, when you were hugging me tightly and crying because we would be apart again. But there will be a time when we won't say goodbye anymore. I go on loving you.