Marsala by Liubov Shyrkina

light only shines for those who share.

do u think that death kills life? does it? and how is it to speak about that after having lost a friend? too many questions. i think i better pour us some wine and tell u a story about the two i’ve seen on the train today. they were a couple. they were holding hands and looked so lovely together. dressed in one colour – the marsala hue. deliberately or not, it doesn’t matter. this is also a sort of fortified wine, the one that Hemingway preferred most – marsala. this gives me a slight recollection of my friend i haven’t seen for a long time. the one who admired Hemingway. and the one i thought i loved. i was whispering his name when i was waking up from anesthesia in the hospital ward. but now i have only got the pleasant memory of this feeling, and nothing more. so that is why i stopped my glance at them.  just two caring lovers. in love with the only thing worth loving – love. the true love never lets u run another’s life, because, however it might hurt ur pride and dignity, u still appreciate the freedom and personal boundaries and put them above ur frenzy passion, that’s what I think. and, by doing so, learn to create ur own space, well, personally i, because i’m always losing myself to these feelings, i’m melting in that and i don’t respect myself. intuitive idealists and dreamers, as i saw them, they were conveying the new tradition of love. all the rest is but centuries-long attempts of romanticizing mere possessiveness. but men r not things to possess. that’s what we r to learn in this century.
the girl was so neat and luminous that it must have been penetrating all the eyes, if everyone around wasn’t too busy to look around for a moment. still i think i wouldn’t get along with her. i am feeling inferior to such type. always ragged and shaggy even in the brand-new clothes. still, she was an angel. and the guy next to her knew it. having the same coloured sweatshirt, as a homage to their holding hands.
they r alive. ablaze and shining through the stone walls miles down beneath the ground. and they shall always live. and shine on. their crazy diamond. if they don’t kill each other with this light. and go on, dazzled, like the ancient Oedipus, through the desert.