Now, all I want to say...

What I want to say is that I feel a kind of despair...
As I have no news from you

and I am not sure that the last exchange hasn't left you very empty.

Of course, for me, it seemed then a wonderful gift.

You trusted me.

What more could I have wanted?

But since then, no news...

And who can prevent me to think...

What if you regret telling me?

So, how can I know for sure that my love for you would be sufficient?

We are at the start of a relationship.

What can be a month of love against many months of loneliness?

Maybe years...

O! God help me!

Meanwhile, I try to fight the tears, the sadness, the anxiety...

So, I keep going on with writing and writing.

And I try to understand.

The illustration comes from the fact

I always want to know the meaning of all those strange words

that you use so often.

You know you mystify me there.

I too like the sound of words.

This I found while searching Irig.

But before that I search Calhassan.

No results, or none who could be pictured!

I wish I knew what you were really meaning then,

as you placed Irig in such a context,

but I have long accepted

I will probably never will be able to follow you

on your dreamy paths...

And Irig is also a place in Serbia.

When I was living in Brussels,

I went often in a Serbian restaurant.

Chumadia...

It seems then that past, present and future are intertwined...

And to tell you the truth,

it seems very strange indeed that I met you.

Imagine that I wrote a story about a boy

who was so very much like you.

So incredibly much like you.

A dreamer.

A poet.