TE19 Iberian Adventure

Patrícia Portela

It’s our ability to fall that gives us meaning; not our potential for flight. We write only because we’re limited by the hardware of imagination, aware that everything can be described using words, but that some thoughts caneasily becomeunbearablewhenwritten down.

It’s gravity that gives us grace, makes us human.

I hated everything about your funeral.

The white flowers.

The music.

The readings and speeches.

The way you they’d dressed you up. But it didn’t matter, as the two of us weren’t really there, at least not the way we used to be. Maybe life is nothingmore thanwatchingothersdie inslowmotion, and the death of a loved one just an introduction to anaesthesia without medication, an experiment on the unconscious, a guessing game on the nature of the unknown. I miss the friendship, the idle days, the absurd conversations, the unexpected things that happened. I miss your complete trust in my implausible creative endeavours and my in-built obliviousness to everything else. But I could have never loved you this much if you were still alive. 62 Your death turned me into a ghost.