Excerpt 25/04/2023

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As he is sleeping, I put my warm cheeks against his back. 

I can feel him breathing, from time to time shaking, falling into his first deep sleep. 

I hold him, I hold him so tight. Afraid that if I don't  he might slip away to somewhere

I have no access to. 

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I can't sleep

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I think about my friends 1200 kilometers away.

It's as I've seen them yesterday. I can hear them laugh, squeaking voices. I can feel the echo's of the embraces we shared and they are there. A guided map through my core. 

The body remembers. 

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I can't sleep. 

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I think about my grandmother who I took with me on this journey to Italy. 

I think about what she would say to me as a responds that I poured her into the sea near Portofino. 

To what seemed to be a deserted beach on December 31, where a few minutes after I let her go, a few seconds passed midnight, a big firework ignited. 

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As I left you into the sea, the water rose all of a sudden scooping a wave of cold water over my feet. As if you were saying hello, or goodbye, with this vivid energy of yours. 

 

Just before I found out you passed away, after I'd just woken up, the sun shone like a huge orange theatre spot into my room in Brussels. Something I'd never seen before. 

You spoke through me through natures forces. 

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I think how you were put into these little plastic pots.

I could choice one from this little velvet box.

On the top of each plastic pot there was a tag with your name on them and I could only think which pot would contain which part of your body and maybe mine contained a piece of collarbone, sit bone, or toenail. Or a piece of your lips, your smile, your blue eyes, beautifully wrinkled skin of your breasts, belly. 

I think of the fact that you'll never be whole again. 

I wonder if your soul misses its body or that you feel in harmony with the fact that your body in all its tiny fragments can now roam around everywhere for you to visit whenever.

 

I wonder if you were nibbled on by fishes, and what kind of fishes and what colours they had. 

I wonder how you must've tasted, if it was sweet or just plain like ashes and I wonder if it fed the fishes and if you became nutrition for the sea and the plants and I wonder if a part of these remains stay linked to your soul and the more you are spread out,

the more your energy can attach itself to everything.

Everything that you (can still) touch. 

everything you (can still) sooth.

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