Her absence is unbearable, her presence deeply missed. While I watch one of the joys of my life slowly slip so far away from my hand, I can't help but notice how the inevitable loss of those dear to you has become more or less of a pattern that textures my life. The questions that hunt me on a daily basis become "Why am I back? Why are they gone?", leaving me inescapably with deep regretful longing and a sense of deprivation. I do not feel at home in the warmth of my house. The streets that I knew by heart, like the scaly back of my hand, are strange to me. And everywhere I look, I see the faces of those who left me, those I left in some godforsaken place where I picked happiness amongst the drying flowers, the drop of rains, the whooshing race cars, and the pushy strangers. Even the simplest idea that I may not experience those pleasures again, that I may not find these people again and worse of all that I could be stuck here, in the same place with no possibility to move, to travel, has basically sent me into a dismal place from which no escape has proven effective yet.
Cédez à mon retour, pour que je puisse retrouver les délicats passions qui m'enlaçaient auparavant.
I miss something but I don't know what it is. I miss your soury lips, I miss the sweet poison that poured out of you at the acme of your delightful stimulus.
Cocom, tanrim, tanricam, bebegim, askim, yavrum, karim, Zeynebim She who understood me, she who stood by my side, she who left me.