Masalalu Story
mass conversation
"They finally laughed"
Every day and night, they spent walking from one place to another in the city. They visit places they find fun. They want to please her before the breakup.
“What do you feel from a farewell?”
The question just slid from Jonathan Both his eyes pounded beautifully He waited for an answer from the man.
“Beauty”.
“You shut yourself down. You are not honest. You are too afraid to know your sadness”.
“I imagine happiness. I engineered reality with my delightful imaginary paintings. I imagine separation as an art of murder that does not kill”.
it was beautiful to feel the pain of separation. He didn't understand how a farewell worked. He imagined as simple as possible: separation is a common thing that does not need to invite suffering. Or he imagined: time has its own way of treating. But it is different what the mind is and feels when it feels itself. He really struggles to forget.
“You imagine me as a killer?”.
“iya. But I'm not dead”.
“Not it's fun: killed but not dead?”
“Someone sometimes thinks death is the path of liberation when life bears the heavy burden of suffering”.
“What if I imagine I am also suicidal?”
“That's an unforgivable stupidity”.
“But I won't stop. You once said: to kill memories, knit the future. So, I followed your advice. I first imagined the presence of other women. Then a courage or a madness of imagination leads me to real actions”.
What?”
“You're looking for someone else? You want to leave me?”
Lati is getting restless. There was anger that could not be restrained and so it appeared on his face. But the man doesn't care. He wanted to speak truthfully that night.
“Listen to me. I'm playing around with anyone? Some of them returned me. Something's offsetting my madness. Some are held back by shame. But I don't care. I just want to be happy. Sometimes I need happiness that doesn't need a reason”.
“You crazy”.
“Iya I'm crazy. And don't stop me from speaking honestly”.
The man looked at the woman with a signal. The woman agreed.
“As I seduce you”, the man continued,“words have always been an interesting way. Maybe because I have no other way. So it looks like the coolest way. And one of them, someone who was so cute at first, finally started to get along with me. I feel like we're getting cool. I invited him to study writing because I knew he liked literature but couldn't write. I asked him to start with a diary. I said I was ready to teach her every day and she agreed with still embarrassment. I said: useless shame to a madman. And he just laugh”.
“You love him?”
“Love?”
it is beautiful to imagine a hope in the past. Something she knits slowly from introductions. He fertilized it by giving it little joys. He fulfilled his requests. He is ready to be a place to indulge or accommodate his complaints. He thought it was a struggle for a hope he named love.
But in the end he was also aware or rather made aware of reality. These struggles don't really have power. What he planted in the struggle he could not find in his happiness.
