Motto: “Nothing is stranger or more ticklish than a relationship between people who know each other only by sight, who meet and observe each other daily – no hourly – and are nevertheless compelled to keep up the pose of an indifferent stranger, neither greeting nor addressing each other, whether out of etiquette or their own whim.” (Thomas Mann, Death in Venice)
The frozen social mask requires us to act like Strangers.
But my soul knew yours before the world began.
This untamed horse, a violent surge of passion, explodes in million fireworks,
whenever my gaze meets yours.
The only one who could fire me up in a split-second.
Just by his soothing presence.
The only one who saw my solitary-heart,
when others cruelly denied it.
-How could I not love you?
My Stranger. My Secret Lover. My Air.
Your smile awakens in me an intoxicating ecstasy.
And I patiently wait to meet you, once more,
between a hidden-sadness and a resounding-happiness.
Between a moment-without-you and a-forever-cherished-instant-with-you.