May I write a love song for you?
After Shakespeare, Sinatra, and Tagore,
Even if I can’t fathom sounds anew,
Would you still blush at this mantra and lore?
We were perfect when we met,
Though I thought myself short.
There’s nowhere you need to get,
I take you as you are, no more.
I see in this rainfall
The same atoms that wet your covering,
That make our bodies tall.
In our past lives, the very beginning,
Our atoms belonged to the same beast,
And so did we.
Can clumsy words deliver inexplicability?
Can my mortal body ever cross the…
She read to him her story “The Alchemist.” He listened with his eyes closed. When she finished, he looked up.
“I’m merely the mirror of life. Life is beautiful.”
“You are life.”
“And so are you.”
Such were their conversations.
They stopped in front of the wall that said “forest fire,” the symbol of her name. He stood close and held her.
“I just want to be closer to you.” There was no need for him to say that.
“Do you feel it?”
She looked up at him, who looked into the distance. She had a…
“It’s awkward, don’t you think?”
“No. It’s difficult, but it’s not awkward.”
That was their first conversation on ordering in a land whose language they don’t know. Experiences both of them had had many times around the world.
“Would you consider yourself as a hippie?” She asked with her head on his shoulders, after their first kiss.
“Some people have called me that.” They swayed a little from side to side. “Would you consider yourself one?”
She never thought about it. She backpacked here and there, had less experience with psychedelics than she would like, and was now venturing into…
I didn’t associate the adjective brave with myself until recently. At an interactive installation in Gangnam, I was asked to write down a hope. So I wrote, “I want to be braver,” and hung it up under the date I wanted it to come true.
In fact, even before then, I had been braver than I gave myself credit for. I’ve been the woman who went alone to the U.S. …