The evening before I left, I received a very nice gift from a wonderful woman. She read me a piece of writing by Péter Müller, as her “ash-baked scone”.
This is the explanation of what took up my time and why I didn’t write. The solution is in one of my first two sentences, so I don’t think it’s necessary to elaborate further.
There are people we receive as a gift for a while, to accompany us through a phase of their life. Not really to possess or dominate them. Nor to suffocate them with our advice. Sometimes just to go by. Transparently.
In the moment of true encounters, we sneak into each other’s lives, and our souls sit well together. We vibrate to the same song. We feel each other.
People say they don’t like to suffer. I still love them. I love when someone is missing me desperately. If there is that choking feeling lurking in every part of me that I would give everything at that moment to meet him again. I feel the same melody in my soul again. His melody and his vibration.
There is something great and shockingly strange in these encounters. Life brings two people together here or there, as if it were just a game of Chance, and then connects them with the invisible web of friendship. So that we never forget that melody, that scent, that atmosphere that it brought before us, and those feelings that it smuggled into our souls.
Péter Müller