В колонках играет - Наутилус Помпилиус - Прогулки по водеНастроение сейчас - полного безразличия...Time keeps running away
No matter what's left behind
It keeps on moving
Tomorrow is not in today
And all of your yesterdays
Are only a matter of
Time…
A LIST FROM MY DIARY
February 18, 2000
Something was happening to the eyes that looked at me. The face was very white and still; that did not change. Had I ground the face to powder with my heel, the eyes would have remained, with the tears that never ran down upon the cheeks and never fell…
He never regained consciousness…
September 27, 2001
There is nothing to live for one when his beloved or friend leaves him. But the difference between these two things is that a person who has left you possibly will come back. No matter if it will happen tomorrow or next year. But when your love is snatched away by death you come to understand that you’re both separated forever and there is nothing to mend your broken heart.
How can you reconcile yourself to the fact when even trifle things bear the past, when you were so happy together? How can you lead the same lifestyle and force yourself into jollity for the sake of other people? Impossible. You hate them all…you hate their eyes because there is nothing behind the surface…you despise their faces because they can smile and you can’t bear their presence because they’re alive…
‘I realized suddenly the whole measure of my loss. He was dead. I would never see him again. He was gone from me forever. Nevermore that smile, that chuckle, those hands upon my shoulder. Nevermore his strength, his understanding. Nevermore that known figure, honored and loved, hunched in his library chair, or standing… looking down towards the sea…’.
October 14, 2001
I have been thinking about our trip to Italy this morning. It was like turning the pages of a photograph album…the tears swelling without control. I think I will never be able to blot out the past, so precious for me. That summer we drove a lot, amidst the myriad villages and today I remember none of them. All I remember is the feel of the leather seats, the texture of the map upon my knee, its frayed edges, its worn seams, and how looking at the clock I thought to myself ‘This moment now, at twenty past eleven, this must never be lost’, and I shut my eyes to make the experience more lasting.
I wanted to go back again, to recapture the moment that had gone, and then it came to me that if we did it would not be the same, even the sun would be changed in the sky, casting another shadow. There was something chilling in the thought something a little melancholy, and looking at the clock I saw that five more minutes had gone by.
…’If only there could be an invention,’ I said impulsively, ‘that bottled up a memory, like scent. And it never faded, and it never got stale. And then, when one wanted it, the bottle could be uncorked, and it would be like living the moment all over again’. I looked up at him, to see what he would say. He did not turn to me, he went on watching the road ahead.
‘What particular moments in your young life do you wish uncorked?’ he said. I could not tell from his voice whether he was teasing me or not. ‘I’m not sure’, I began, and then blundered on, rather foolishly, not thinking of my words, ‘I’d like to keep this moment and never forget it’…
October 27, 2001
There are very few thoughts that consistently bring tears to my eyes. Thinking of how much I miss him is one such thought. It's a loss that makes those silly slogans -"Time heals all wounds" and "Everything happens for the best" - infuriating to me. Time hasn't healed the wound. His death didn't happen because it was "best". It just happened… the victim of one of those senseless street muggings you might read about somewhere in just a few lines in the city newspaper.
December 19, 2001
Sometimes I wonder what our lives would have been like if he had lived. Would he have continued writing and made it big, or would he have gone into teaching, as he had talked about doing right before he died? Or perhaps we would have left that awful mixture of heaven & hell and bought a small summer house in the middle of nowhere? But alas, sharp as a sword the shadow of death came between us.
January 28, 2002
It’s almost two years now…two years without him… I thought I would go off my head, feeling him everywhere with every fiber of my existence… God, I wish I could live my life again, without memories, spanning the years like a bridge, without past…so painful to me. I am starting afresh, letting the past lie quiet. I want to tumble down into reality, I am sick to death being hemmed in by shadows. I want to feel the taste of life again. I don’t want to be finished with life at twenty seven…
