The metro dreamer - the fourth floor lover

I am impressed of the normality of some days, they just pass without any memory. They just fill the spaces in between the rest of the time we live every day. Is sad today, even thought the day is sunny I already know this day is going to be forgotten as many others. I am forgotten, I will be forgotten, I just forgot myself in the second before. Alone as always, and lost in the spaces when the clock tics over the wall. Sad to realize the continuity of time, while we perceive it as emotive waves pictured in flash backs, reminded as the simplest possible way. No details behind, no imperceptible smells to tell about or forgotten sensations that caused the whole mixture a complete experience of colorful emotions.

I miss the past in which I could see the future and forget about the second before. The continuous flow of memory and forgetfulness is unstoppable for some of us. And still is very sad to realize how the winds up in the sky are also forgotten by the sky itself. I wonder why evolution built on us the ability to remember more than accounted. And forget in the same way. Is amazing, but at the same time is very very sad. 

But in the end, if the whole universe would contain the precise memory of every past event, there wouldn't be space for the future and every day as memory builds up in the past, the future would definitely disappear in a constant flow of nothing more than the last sum of memories.

Is this a way to stop time? I wonder... But in part we are here to share our time and memories, sharing is creating the uncertain future, giving space to events never planned before transforming the past memories. There is always someone who teaches us how to forget the past. For this we have to learn to forget. And is not just to forget, is know how to do it, what to forget, the speed of forgetting, the order in which we forget and where we want to go to forget again.

I have a lover in a fourth floor, of a city that beats time and knows how to memorize and to forget. My love lives alone with her thoughts and life every day I love my lover the way she is. She wakes up every morning with her beautiful eyes well delineated by the cold of the north, and her red lips well prepared to speak every morning, in her sweet solitude, in her containment very very deep containment, thinking about her day those days that you can always forget, but not me nor her. 

I have seen her during the morning while she is still sleeping, forgetting me all the time and me just memorizing every second by her side while she moves her eyes in a profound sleep. I always wonder if she really sees me when I am around, because like a ghost I wander her room with my sight in the early morning and walk her back with my fingers. I wonder if she really sees where I am.

I am forgotten every day by her, but my problem is that I forget very very slow the emotions that reality encodes. I enjoy the pleasure of grasping every second with her but as I am still in the memorable past, her memorable love has moved into the future and she has already started to forget. I diffuse into her memory every day, I am simplified in pictures and electrifying emotions that last inversely proportional with the time in an exponential decay. And please spare me for my scientific jargon, but I have no other way to express the same. Reality wins the match all the time, while I am seeking to remain into her memory and by the way into her heart.

I imagine that the early artists realize this. The man of the caverns were so scared to forget their hunting achievements, their dead, the sky, the ocean, the earth as they knew it. That invokes such a deep spiritual connection with reality that transcends the memory as it is and becomes an archetype of reality fused in symbols that contain complex memories whose are forgotten again with the pass of time.

I have to be honest, this lover took me by surprise. At that moment I was deeply meditative, safe in my own realization of the past and the future. She appeared and gave me the thrust to propel myself into the forgotten fields of love. Ignited the spark of going back to the earth and we shared our life realizations in a long embrace that lasts today waiting to be forgotten, from the beginning of the universe. I have to apologize again when I use the word universe in my sentences, because nowadays, deep inspiration on it is like talking about ridiculous magic. People has just forgotten to observe the sky and now they find themselves in the lie that they have created.

Anyway, its sad to realize that every time I arrived the fourth floor I was killing the memory itself. I was killing the possibility of making it last forever of making love to her again of looking in between the space that every tic tac of the clock offered as a chance of immortality. Then as a good son of zeus, I wanted to beat time running over the memory as a simple mortal and improvising to start the passion again, and penetrate deeper into her limbs and memory and heart. I am not good enough for that, just a simple mortal.

Then love makes sense for social purposes not individual ones. We make part of a sharing community of lovers, who die every day by means of time, to keep ourselves in a perpetuous state of communal change, to give space for the future, and to forget. I am not practical at all its true, the concept of time and memory, and inside memory, all the love we could give, take and forget makes us special as a bunch of lovers. But still there must be something else... the paths towards immortality relies underneath the tissue of time.

After realizing this, there is something in my blood that doesn't wants to be forgotten. Doesn't wants to die, it wants to change but never to die that goes beyond the simple matter of fear to death.

My lover lives in a fourth floor, I just wonder when that floor will start to fade... an me to realize that I am not a zeus son.

Andrés