He’s always been a thief. Therefore, it was inevitable, that when we met he would also steal a little something from me.
It’s as if we – this gent and I – have been chasing the tails of time zones for more than a year, to eventually connect, on patterned armoires in a library and bench seats in an imagined Parisian cafe. Sometimes you don’t realize how much you miss someone until you’ve walked into a hotel, in the middle of a grueling winter and feel the energy of their being-ness, whose humility would never grant him to play as big as he truly is.
It’s the humans who don’t try, the ones who are at ease within – even if they think they are a wild, roaring sea, elusive to being bridled – that make you feel that your own wild sea of ideas isn’t out there alone.
So, I think he ought to know, beyond black coffee and coffee with milk, that part of his contribution to this world is that of being an in-real-life reminder, while rare, of someone who can steal the attention of an entire room, or, the middle of a snowy street and be welcomed oncoming traffic, as nature slows us down, when we all need it the most. Yea, he stole something from me and I don’t want it back.