Yes, time to say goodbye ...

I may write back from wherever I land …

One day …

Maybe, maybe not …

Maybe here, maybe on a different page …

Or I may just learn to think silently from now on …

For now, au revoir, it was great making your acquaintances and hearing your say whenever and wherever I allowed comments ...

All the best to you all, xx.

After a week-end filled with encounters which, at best, fall under the categories ‘new’, ‘weird’, ‘puzzling’, ‘almost frustrating if it weren’t for my frolicking friends and the miraculous effect of the Absolut’, Picasso’s exhibition seemed like the most appropriate finale to an overwhelmingly confusing break.

Enjoying my ride to the capital in the passenger seat for a change, I was secretly hoping to see 'it' –my painting of an earlier post. Years later, heartbreaks seem to be a re-current theme in my life, differences lying in the details, faces, locations, etc.

I didn’t find it … Instead, I was mesmerized by her: her face or should I say her faces -profile and full face; her eyes -one looking out and another within ... 'her', so feminine, present, sophisticated, social, alive yet so soft, pensive, thoughtful, reflective, lonely …

There I was, contemplating the reflection of my own self wondering whether she too struggled between the face she had to show to the world and the face she wished she could reveal. Did she have days where she was tired of portraying the joyful, fun, daring, non-chalant, cool, detached, confident side of her. Did she ever feel like shouting out her over-sensitive, hopeless romantic, passionate, hesitant, protective, self-critical and reflective side? Did she ever overcome that fear of exposing what fully makes her up? How long did she have to nurture one side on the expense of the other for survival and company?

A text message from L woke me up to let me know that they had been waiting outside for quite some time. I looked back smiling, thinking that most probably Pablo had something different in mind. But hey, wasn’t he the one who said ‘It is not up to the painter to define the symbols otherwise it would be better if he wrote them out in so many words! The public who look at the picture must interpret the symbols as they understand them’?

Ah and so I obliged ;)

Painting: Portrait Dora Maar by Picasso - 1937

On that ESP train leaving Rome to Naples, here she was. With her long black hair, curled up by the window, tears were streaming down her cheeks - eyes constantly glossy. At times, she would take a deep breath. Apart from that, she barely made a sound but I could hear her cries, I could see the heartbreak in her eyes, I could feel her pain.

On that flight heading towards Milan few days later, I see her again. This time, hiding her heartbreak in her eyes behind golden bangs. She unsuccessfully tries to choke her tears, dark sunglasses her last attempt to hide herself.

Three years ago I was there. Somewhere between Rome and Milan, I was there, in that same world they were caught in this June 2006. I remember how the pain in my heart created what seemed to be an endless flood of tears for days followed by regular and intense showers for many months.

I felt this strong urge to give each of them a hug and tell them that things will be ‘better’ –a ‘better’ they would not understand at this stage I’d dare to assume. I badly wanted to shout in their ears that the tears they are shedding will only make them become stronger, that these outbreaks will only help them get through their pain, disappointment and frustration and heal their wounds, that breathing the way they’re doing is not a weakness, nothing to be ashamed of, nothing that they need to hide but rather a means of surviving … yes, that things will be better after all.

And there I was, crying again this year. They say that ‘every heartache holds a remembering’ and I’m afraid it is true. Just when I thought that my pain has long gone, seeing them, feeling them combined with coping with a new personal emotional challenge brought back a great deal of sorrow. I cried for quite a few days but with one major development this time. I cried while knowing deep down that my tears will strengthen me, free me and help me overcome this new challenge. I just hope that deep down they knew it too or will realize it soon at least … it just makes things more tolerable and gives us hope for better days.