2nd October 2012

KLARKE had a talk with Christine on phone, today. Though the urge to hear her voice was stronger than the urge to breathe, it was he who did all the talking. Strangely, the reason was pretty clear - the lesser he heard her voice, the lesser would be the insatiable want to hear her more.

The conscious mind knew it pretty well – her camp starts today, and for the next 10 days, they won't be able to share a single message, a single word of everything that was impossible to be expressed in words. He collected himself and asked the formal and obvious questions, afraid to jump to the uncomfortable ones, from where there was no turning back. She answered his questions in her own sweet way, each word of her's hitting him like the world's strongest, most pleasant intoxication. He wanted to be drugged, to be carried away by those careless words to the lips which spoke them. The sweet notoriety in her voice was tempting and teasing – like she could actually see him trying so hard not to say it again and again – not to say how much he loved her and wanted to be with her.

Occasionally, she would chuckle, and Klarke imagined her smiling like the evening when they sat together holding hands, he caressing her slim fingers, looking into her eyes, noticing how her beauty could make angels swell in envy. He did not mention this. He knew of no known language with which he could communicate his thoughts in their pure original form. All he could say was 'Take care', with the same degree of pain and pleasure – pain of being so away from her, pleasure of still being able to love her more and more each moment.

Somehow he felt that she could sense the beating of his heart, and he could sense hers. The rhythm of two hearts, of two souls, so far away, yet so near, so synchronous and pure – it was like living in the childhood dream where everything was good, everyone was happy, there was no grief, no guilt, no despair, no hatred, just love...pure untouched love.

The 2 minutes 52 seconds on the phone were like a beautiful evening walk – by the sunset at the river bank, golden rays of the setting sun meeting the sharp corners of her smiling lips, her eyes looking into his while he puts his arms around her waist and brings her closer. Planting soft kisses on her neck, he whispers something in her ears, and they both – Klarke and Christine - together watch the sun hide behind another majestic beautiful evening.

Suddenly the crude reality of life strikes Klarke, and he knows its time. There is an uncomfortable silence lasting various microseconds – there is so much more to tell, so much more to talk about, and yet no means to express any of it now in that moment. The fight inside him finally ends, and an unknown voice unwillingly whispers - “Goodbye Christine”.

K