It was dusk by the lake.
We sat on an unremarkable bench,
shaded by trees, hiding us from some jealous stars.
The Alps on the horizon,
covered with stracciatella snow,
and the quicksilver surface of the lake,
reflecting the fancy lights of this elegant city.
His green eyes gazed at the horizon.
His frown-wrinkles seemed to dissolve in the evening,
and I saw him place his heart on the bench beside him.
He handed me a Cuban cigar and a matchbox from Manuel’s.
A couple of hours of co-solitude,
in the center of the city, or the universe,
but very far from all.
He unleashed his mind with a hurricane of passion,
for creating footsteps,
for changing things,
and for glory.
I lent him my attention,
thankful for all the butterflies
that had led to this effect.
I felt richer and wiser,
and far from the center.
Thankful for the clarity of the moment,
and the purity of the bond.
After exchanging gratitude,
we embraced a comfortable silence.
The noise of streetcars,
mixed with nearby salsa tunes.
We promised more than just words.
“See you on Wednesday,” he said softly,
Our journey was just beginning.
