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Do not tell me who I am Love scene


(To Lenore)

Tell me what to do now, and how to do it. Help me understand things I always found quite difficult. How should I behave to be better? What does this world expects from me? How can I do you good? Give me a hand, because I need to get along in public. Show me the way home, and what should I go home to. Who’s there? Explain me what love is and how can I reach it. And if I do how can I know it, and what to do from that moment on.
What should I do? How can I do it? What for? Teach me who I am and why and what for and why that way and not some other... Hold my hand. Get to know me. Believe in me and make me understand why you do. Be here. Don’t give up. Maybe I can’t do it on my own.

(Photography: Tomar, Portugal, November of 2008 / Text: Coimbra, Portugal, December 5th, 2008)

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For many, many years, we’ve been around. Many times we got together in different places in this world without planning it. And when that happened we had coffee, we had lunch, we had dinner and we made love. The decision of leaving home was shared, and both of us closed all windows, locked all doors, picked up our luggage and just went away in different directions. When you went south I went north, when I went east you went west. Always with a smile in our eyes, always remembering…

He came out from the sea that night and I was waiting in the wind with some towel to clean him up.

From time to time I called home. Although no one was there to answer the phone it felt good knowing that, in that dark room, far away, the familiar sound of the phone could be heard. My heart felt appeased.

He came down from the mountains that morning and I was there in the snow with a coat to keep him warm.

It was a long journey the one we’ve made. We weren’t running from anything. We weren’t tired of each other. There was nothing more precious in this world. We just wanted to meet unexpectedly in strange lands, have exquisite meals, feel our hearts beating hard at the sight of each other in Rome, Johannesburg, Calcutta, Macao… We loved so much the fact of being alive. I loved you so much that I’ve desired to keep falling in love with you, in strange lands, with strange colours, in the sun or under rain, at night, during day, in all four seasons, in all continents. And whenever I saw you there it was! There it was! I knew why I was here in this world: to ask you whom you were, to invite you to do something, to see you smiling and embracing me once more with laughter. To fall in love with you…

He came out from the train that evening and there I was to help him with the luggage and take him home, where we’ll always belong.

(Photography: Tomar, Portugal, November 1st, 2008 / Text: Tomar, Portugal, November 5th, 2008)

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After you


(For my princess Lea Lipkovo)

Having seen you at the airport upon arrival, have told you a few words uncertain ... We were both tired, but still some spark ignited a stack of firewood forgotten within each of us.

Having made that long journey through the dark to the place unknown and distant, silent, not even knowing what was awaiting us at the other end of the night.

Have you seen exhausted at midnight at that stop for coffee in the middle of dark woods, listening to the sounds of owls and other nocturnal creatures. The wind almost sculpted ice scars on our faces.

have seen you sleepy the next morning, and so little green eyes, your face still showing the warm colors of dreams. Have gone out into the cold again, the city ex-Soviet ... Terms

started talking after dinner, drinking too much meaning ... Have you heard that woke up hearing someone sing in the shower in the room immediately above yours. I have realized that it was I who awakened you. I wish I could sing you forever ...

have touched your hair for the first time in early morning, cold in the garden opposite the church, have held in my hot little hand your. Have felt the moisture of your lips, the fragrance of your breath, the touch of your tongue when we were both so far away when we were both so uncertain, when we were both so alive ...

Have you kissed. Have you kissed and make sense once more my heart send blood into the arteries again, my whole being functioning perfectly as the most sophisticated piece of machinery. Have felt joy, right there in Eastern Europe. Have sensed your body slowly forcing way into the mine, and then more and more ... Want to join?

have known it would not last, tried to keep only the best of what each had to offer two other ... Term prepared us for goodbye.

have desired so much time to be quiet for a few moments, days, hours. Have accepted all that he could take us over that period ... Have felt your arms around my body at night. Have loved.

Having made the return journey in separate places, sleepy and afraid of words. Have you taken to the airport, have been there waiting for a miracle that never came. Having to leave you and I to leave you there with your luggage ...

your shoulders have involved just one more time, have looked into your eyes just once more, having played in your hair ... Have wished that there were just two of us, have given you one last kiss, soon, sore. Have you orphans and said some words I head for the exit, never to look at you. Having lost ...

not trade for anything.

(Photo: Rezekne, Latvia, September 28, 2008 / Text: Tomar, Portugal, 12 October 2008)

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Underwater


How many of us are still breathing? Can you really hear me? Are we still alive? We've all

Walked That extra mile, we've all made dreams come true Either by writing, painting, sculpting, writing or music making science. It's true. And In Those dreams we've tried to hold to each other's arms. I guess we’re here for some reason, although I can’t quite get it. Not yet anyway. But do we still have the time to do it?

From now on, if time makes it easy on us all, we can go on honouring our existences and dreams. Be what you write about. Be as beautiful as your paintings. Be as everlasting as your sculptures. Be as hypnotic as your songs. Be what you believe. Oh God, give us time!

Without all of us this place would be really dull and vain. Who else would be here, anyway, prepared for so much beauty, to contemplate it, to understand it, to cherish and make it blossom? It would not be a waste, but a shame. Meanwhile, maybe the time is coming when we’ll have to let go of it. Water is already reaching my neck, and maybe the time has come for us to close our eyes.

(Photography: Riga, Latvia, October 2nd, 2008 / Text: Tomar, Portugal, October 27th, 2008)

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