I saw her in my dreams. Never stop coming. I see her and touch her and I know her details. I wake up to my daily and world, governed by repetition, without leaving a moment, and in my soul I have launched a blue river that I face with a dry world without a cloud or an eye of water.
On the way to the duplicate places, she accompanied me. Out of the clouds. Basma looks and disappears, smiling. He stares at the others as if I am a fool or a tinker, before each of them turns to me, to his other world that I do not see.
I knew it was no more cute; a lieutenant's dream about the example women; Pygmalion and Galatia; the beauty and misery together, to complete everything desirable, and wait for what did not come.
There, everywhere I go: in the city at night, in books, work files, long road trees, faces, eyes, and crowds.
As I look at the usual faces, read the newspapers, and go to the job; when the presence in my soul draws, as if everything knows and goes to an end without being able to change anything; it came from afar smiling, waving to me with a white hand. She walks slowly, a neighbor behind her with green hills, sunsets, fresh music, clouds, and pets. I leave time passing by my side, and I stand at the end of the moment: I do not care about him, and I do not care about his hours and classes.
On the chair of the mute job, and in the noise of human beings who say nothing, I was like the melody that follows its spectrum, spreading stars that illuminate the world and go. My colleagues, as they jostled my parrot, gestured, drawing circles in the crossword boxes and writing nothing, but guessing a name for those I did not know. Perhaps it is a woman, a god, an angel, and an illusion. Perhaps it is eternity. Perhaps it is a spirit that prophesies me towards my end, or the beginning of my existence in another world.
In the life that everyone leads, I walk among them: I repeat, I sell and buy, quarrel and grieve ... before I make fun of all of this, and of the frequency that governs the world.
In the life that comes from it, without an appointment, I am not tired, nor are I hungry, nor are I hungry. Nothing but the reassurance that flowed into the heart, from her smile, from her hand that scattered the stars. I feel the spring of peace being in my soul, consuming all the pain I have experienced. Looming behind a cloud or a string of sun, and singing all the earth in song, and leaving Asai to her hands, which are stretched toward me, standing in the middle of the spring.
That evening, I left the world and its repetition and hustle of details, and in my soul only its image. I walked in the crowd, happy with my beautiful bohemian, through which I see another living world radiating compassion, light and love. As if it were the first of all things, as if all else were. All the joy, sweetness, beauty and happiness end to it. As if the end of the end, and the origin of the universe. It was as though I were passing through a tangle of her unbridled hair.
Tired of walking, I have come back to the details of the world and its weight. Delft to the first cafe met me in the rich neighborhood. I saw the usual faces, the alert, the cynical, the weary and the tired with a book devouring his lines to inspire.
Through the vapors of a cup of coffee, as the city's lights glinting with shop fronts, speeding cars and dizzy women, she looked where she had escaped in her last manifestation ... I saw her!
She was quite: sitting on one distant seat, looking at me alone with her beautiful smile and white face. I went up to her, leaving everything else, like a long sleeper, until I reached her. She was still smiling at me. She lifted her head toward me, and a snout fell on her eye, so she did not shake her.
I said, "As if I knew you." Her smile grew wider, and she suggested that I sit down.
I sat down, and the world was suddenly filled with safety, as if I had not grown tired, sick, or scarred, as if the world were at first. I asked her about the universe she was dragging on the edges of her dress and scattering from her fingers. She said to me, looking at the horizon, it's there.
I said, "Take me with him."
She was silent as she stared at me with deep eyes and then said: "Leave yourself alone."
The night was shimmering, the earth was chattered with melancholy singing, and the stars turned and stars were scattered, and two worlds were mixed up in a universe that created, and the eyes of water sprang up, and rivers burst forth, and shadows were cast.
In another similar world, overlooking a distant blue planet, it was with me alone, and around us indescribable and unknowable of pleasure, pleasure, contentment and safety. He looked at the shadows of the distant blue planet, and suggested people contemplating my image and weeping, and others looking for me. She looked at her as if I were exploring her personality: Is it music in the form of a woman, or a spectrum without a presence, or am I glued to see what others do not see?
I said: If I had not made you now, your virginity would have passed me to heaven.
She said, smiling: We are there!
