June 28th, 2008

Drawing to an inescapable close are the ten weeks in which Simone lived. Every year these weeks are like a sacred space I go into. This is the actual time in which she lived, shifted a few years on, but still there, ever returning. It’s like going under the hill, or stepping into a circle of toadstools.

I haven’t, perhaps, as many words as usual to say about this sad day. I made it to the end of it, and the space of Simone is turning away again. Tomorrow, I go back to all the other pieces and parts of my life, the ones that never had, never will have, her in them.

Stepping over is easy, inevitable. But it is not without grief.

The great Chilean poet, Neruda, wrote this: “es tan corto el amor y tan largo el olvido”. This is how I feel today, that love is so brief, while forgetfulness lingers long. His words will have to do for me, because I’m foundering in search of any of my own.

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