As dores de não se ter um pôr-do-sol

Céline,


I finally found you. I’ve been looking for you since you got into that train. Seeing you going by just didn’t kill me because I was a young guy, full of hopes that we’d meet again – 6 months from then, in Viena. Did you show up? I must confess I didn’t. I was afraid you had forgotten all about me and I would have ended up broken hearted – again. That train had already done much damage.

How I remember that day. Your smell, the way your hair moved in the wind, the graceful gestures of your hands. Your tiny eyes. I can’t forget how beautiful you were... so beautiful, that just your presence in the seat across mine in that train made me smile.

Where are you now? What are you doing? I wonder those things everyday. I’m afraid I’m getting stuck in the past. Something that is so meaningful to me, but to you could have been just an adventure. Was it?

I hope you are good. And happy. Do you remember me? That stranger with a pick up line that won you... for at least one day. Do you remember the fortune teller? And what about the poet? Oh, another smell I can’t forget is the grass of the park, where we made love. I couldn’t believe that was happening at that time... now, I believe in it so strongly.

You must think I’m this dork american that can’t forget an one night stand. For you, it was just that, wasn’t it? Is that why you didn’t show up in Viena? Oh, yes. I lied. I did go. During those 6 months, all I could see were the wrinkles from your smile. I was there, waiting to meet those wrinkles again, kiss them. But you weren’t there. I guess something urgent came up, it must have happened something incompatible with our meeting.

I wrote a book, did you know? I toured in Europe because of it. Did you know? It was about that day... not the one where you stood me up, no. About the day you jumped off the train with me. I guess you are not blaming your husband for the lousy marriage, since you did get off the train to see if you were missing out on anything... do you think you missed out on something? Maybe not, once there was no Céline in Viena months later... do you think you missed out on something then? I wish you are happy, but, at the same time, I want you to have missed.

Well, back to my book, I wrote it to you. To find you somehow. I went to Europe to see you in one of my book signings, there, in the background, standing out of the crowd. Did you come to any of those? If so, why did you hide from me?

I have dreams of you. I see you, in the train, and you go by, and you go by, and you go by. And I’m here, still. In another dream, you are preagnant, naked, lying in bed next to me and I kiss your ankles and your belly. Oh, where did you go, Céline?

I can’t wonder anymore. What if we had exchanged phone numbers? Why didn’t we do that?! I was young and stupid... we didn’t even exchanged addresses... so now I spend my time writing letters and mailing them to random adresses. I hope luck will get by my side one day and hand you this letter. Just like it handed me you in that train.

Céline, I love you.

Jesse