As If (II)
As if you’d come back every minute, because it just has to be this way. Every little piece in this place is familiar to me; I know every little story about every little figurine and photograph. This place is crowded with all your collected memories and I hardly find a place to sit between the blanket you did not finish knitting, the tv magazine from June and all the letters from your friends that cover every corner – and it still feels empty here and it never did before.
I wish I would have been here more often the last few years, I wish I had answered all your lovely postcards sooner than I did, I wish you knew you were loved so much, I wish, I wish, I wish. Every second thought starts “I wish” and every other “Had I known”. It took weeks to open up a drawer and slowly start sorting things. It’s still yours, do you mind if I sort things out? It’s been months now and I’m so sorry for the chaos in your rooms, you’d shake your head at this, but then again, you never cared too much for material things.
I smell your perfume everywhere in here. My sister borrowed your bike and afterwards her hands smelled like yours, your scent is even on the bar ends of the handle bar, and we stood in the hallway hugging and she cried again, taking smells on her hands, and I’m not sure if we are able to use your bike again.
I wish I could still hold your hand and lay my head on your chest and at least listen to your breathing. You wouldn’t have to do anything or even talk, I know it’s exhausting. Just beeing close to you is all I wish for.
[Canon AE-1 Program / 50mm 1:1,8 / Agfa APX ISO 100]