You wild, dark, twisted, and harrowing lover, you.
Today I have been with you for two years.In two years I have lived in five different apartments in five different parts of the city, I have sat around tables where five languages were being spoken at once and everyone could understand each other. I have danced with those I love as the sun came up over the spree. We have spent our summers in the sun of the grass, naked and laughing in blue green water, the day accented with yellow. We have spent our winters in wet boots, wrapped in wool and drinking red wine, complaining and eating boxes of 2 euro chocolate truffles. We have collaborated, created, come together and manifested the seemingly impossible. We have painted and planted, cooked and baked, drank and smoked, celebrated and grieved. And there has been loneliness, and sadness, days and days of grey, heavy and looming. There has been a silence here like I have never found before,
Through all of the highs and lows of this bipolar city,
I have discovered a place where the pendulum swings in between,
found that stillness even if for a fleeting moment.
Berlin. You have been a prison and you have set me free. Your streets have felt like a maze and looking up into your sky I have known what it means to fly. You have pulled the rug out from under me again and again, forcing me to find a true foundation in myself. I came to you a girl and you have made me a woman. Your love is tough and I have the bruises to prove it but you have transformed me and when I leave you, I leave a better woman. I leave transfigured. For this I am eternally grateful.
Sara Fay George
Keep following Love
See where her current takes you
Take your hands from the oar
Throw the paddle to the waves
Dive from your little boat
Trade its confines for the endless ocean
You will never receive these letters although my heart hopes you find them. Maybe your eyes will never see these words till I am gone and they search through my things and discover the letters unsent. They will be gathered together in a brown paper and twine, which will find its way to your doorstep. As the bow slips undone and the paper flaps open you will remember my messy penmanship and the scent of my hair from all those decades ago.