Last Winter Day

I remember winters, when was the coldest days, I remember how snow sounded under my footsteps, how that sound never ended, as if that sound follows you. I never hated frost, nor snow scrunching under my footstep. I remember how walking in winter I had always destination to walk to. Your house. I remember how your house looked after heavy snowing, how your house invited me to go in, with saying nothing. It felt always spontaneously step to your house, like stepping from winter milieu, to the world kindest place. I remember particularly well, how abnormally cold day we walked along a big motor road, I had target to walk. We had. I remember how we hesitated to catch each others hands, albeit we both wanted that. We approached our destination, a destination where our roads would separate. not conclusively. As I thought. I knew how time can be stopped, so I grabbed your hand and you responded that with tight press. I didn't feel frost, nor snow scrunching under my footstep. I felt only the heat of your hand and that moment. I looked at you. As if requesting for help, so you could stop the time and we could just stand there. I knew that wouldn't happen, not in this story. Destination loomed, the heat started to change to strident coldness. Snow scrunching under my footstep. I knew that we have to say farewell and that we would see again. I see how you go away, slowly. I thought time would stop now and we would miss out everything. everything upcoming. We had already planned out next meeting, so I knew we will meet again. You dissappear between houses and our roads separated. I saw you yet again, I don't know if you saw me, but that moment reminded me of that winter day, I knew we will meet again.

    I'm hurrying my packing, I wasn't sure what I could need on my journey. I glance clock. 14:34. I went through the list I've made. Passport. The only important item I needed was lost. I yelled to myself and tried to figure out where I have put that. Bureau. Too obvious place for passport, I thought. I opened the bureau and the first thing I saw was that passport. I felt momentary relief, in the middle of that frustration and loneliness. I packed everything to my black backpack, because I didn't think I'll need a much items, I didn't think. I put my favourite shoes on, which have been worned over the course of kilometers. I open the front door and watch once more time my apartment. I knew I will return here, where else will I go? I closed the door and stepped toward to cold autumn noon. Leaving feels always hard, and promising. I remember all of my leavings, and that feel of emptiness its leaves inside, as if I give away something. Myself. Walking my way to subway, I felt cold wind in my hands. The subway station was crowded by people, going and coming. Like a beehive, where everyone got their own mission. I saw around me some married couples who said goodbye to each other, I knew how that feels. I tried not to think about that, I heard snow scrunching under my footstep and I felt frost. No, I have to go. I thought. I stepped in train, which was also crowded by people, going every where, coming from every where. Each traveler in their own world, but every one in the same train. I don't enjoy myself in large crowd of people, I haven't for years.

    My thoughts in train started to wander in the past. Why in the past, I live in the present, or I believed. I haven't felt being alive for a long time, like I was a puppet who is controlled by some one in the heights and took to places I didn't know going. I remember how I loved autumn, how in the middle of that its prepared to winter. Now I feared autumn, because I knew winter will come and I knew I didn't want to recall winters. Two person in the corridor were arguing themselves, I cant follow their conversation, although how hard I could try. My thoughts weren't in this moment. the further train goes, the more I start thinking about winter, that last winter I felt happiness. I didn't know what happiness was, until I had to give it away. Happiness is like borrowed book from library. Worn out, starting from some where and ending to some where. And that book has to be returned back to huge library, like happiness. And like same library book, you can borrow the same happiness again, but you know where it starts and where it ends. You can recall that happiness with a fragile moment, you know you'll have return that back. Happiness can't be owned.

    I hear how train stars braking gradually, I know what that sound means. Here is my stop. I abandon train and the memories of winter and happiness it brought to my mind. It was cold outside. I put my hood over my head, as if covering myself from the world around me, the world that has nothing to give me. Only something to take. While walking on these familiar streets my mid was filled by the same hope, which I felt at that winter. I was maintaining hope, I don't know why. It brought me relief, although I knew it was illusion. I notice very first snowflake, I realized autumn is over and winter is here. That hope I was maintaining, suffocated in snowfall, which was strengthening all the time. I turned to big motor road. To that same motor road where we used to walk. I hear snow scrunching under my footstep, cold frost in my hands. But I didn't feel you. I continue walking, until I end up to residential area, to the same street you used to live. I walk toward to your house. I have destination where walk to, unlike before. I stop in front of your house, or yard, where your house was used to be. I don't see your house. I see cold building, which before invited me, but now told me to go away. I decided to walk your door and knock. Why? I knocked. My heart was beating fast, like you were beside me. I see no one. Quickly some old lady opens the door and I was confused, because I thought you lived here. I asked to old lady where you are. Why am I doing this? lady says with confusion in her voice that you have moved out. To the place, where will never come snowy winters, nor autumn when was awaited the winter. I don't say a word. I turn away and continue my journey. I knew, you have took my winter away with yourself

So basically, these are my very first notes, I couldnt write a long text, because I couldn't focus on my thoughts, but now I am working on with a bigger one that I'll translate and publish soon :)  

Room

Human brains are so mysterious, you used to say. I didn't know what you meant with that. It took me months and the months to understand what you meant. Even now, you are not here, not here as I could see you. Not here as I could feel you.  Not here as I could smell you. Not here. I sit in the cold empty room trying to fill that room with my mind. But you are not here. It's so dark, I could not see the door. Is there a door? But it feels like I'm not alone in this room. The smell, the shape. The touch. It has been years but I still know your voice, it's echoing in my mind. But you are not here. I feel your warm like in the coldest winter nights. I smell your perfume like in warmest summer days at the beach. But you are not here. The room is getting smaller. I see your shape in front of the door. The door. I was looking for that door for years. And you found it. The room is getting smaller. I know how I can get out of the room, its devouring me. I know I have to kill you to get out of this room. Am I selfish? I stand up and walk to the door. Open it. I look behind and I can see you, I can smell you. But you are not there. I close the door which is so heavy that I lost all of my strengths. Door closing. I look at the closed door. I can't see you anymore, I can't smell you anymore, I can't feel you anymore. I step away from the door and walked away. You are not here.

My first and shortest story

Letter to no one

I'm in lost in the wood of forbidden dreams and hope, I see no light, no path to follow, no company to share loneliness. I just want to sit down the tree and imagine the world outside the wood. I remember the sunlight that burned my face and the wind that healed it. I remember the cold water where I used to swim and the warm fire side that made me feel warmer. I can still remember my first hug and the thing that separated us. I used to dream about highlands and warm seasides. Only now I can dream about getting out of the wood. I know this wood will end some where, I know there are many things out side of the wood. But I'm in lost in the wood of forbidden dreams and hope.

Regards no one