I came home after work today at 9.30, caught up with Florian, showered, talked to him even more, watched an episode of Gavin & Stacey, a BBC comedy a few years back, laughed together at the scene where Gaven jumped across the fence in the train station to propose to his girlfriend, kissed each other good night and then felt into the realm of sleepiness, promising to wake each other up tomorrow morning. The only difference is all of those were conducted online.
Lunch and dinner were suffocating. Words have run out. What’s left was only tears on my mother’s eyes. I wonder if she also had troubles sleeping tonight, just like I do. And that is scary, such scenario. Another one not less intimidating is the days ahead living in such dreadful ambiance: it will wear all of us down.
My cousin is spending another night in my place due to power outage at his. The last time he was here, I was trying to hold back my shivering upon reading Florian’s handwriting addressing his affair on a business trip. This time, just like the last time, I couldn’t even feel comfortable letting it out. But this time, the challenge is much more significant.
“We will prove them all wrong. They will not laugh at us.” What he said not only brought me to tears but also to the vicinity of comfortness, of belonging, and a taste of peace that deems so precious during these hours.