It was already departing time when the two raced for the central train station, it was not easy to get on the tram comfortably when people were leaving after work and tourists pouring in from around the city. The evening sky had not changed for the last 2 days, the faces on board the carriages had the same pale look as they pulled their coats closer together.
The two managed to regroup just outside of their designated bus while the bus driver was checking tickets before letting the passengers get on the transport. Cay handed over his phone to the driver with the QR code on it. It did not occur to him to use paper tickets when his bag surely would crumple whatever paper-materials he might had owned. The journey to Luxembourg, which were their last destination, took about six hours.702Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8SNvNI1zxk
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There was not much talking while on the bus as everyone seemed visibly shivered by the cold and tiredness, snoring could be heard every now and then as the last of the passengers fell into a slumber in the moving steel of chamber.
Last Cay could remember was the still coolness in the air of the bus before he dozed off. He found himself suddenly in a dimly lit room. He did not feel his skin contacting the air and observed his surroundings, only the indirect moon light provided a source of visibility as his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. A smell that he could not vividly recall made him somewhat sadden, his hand reaching for something but could not be felt. It was not loneliness he was feeling, but a sinking depression as his mind slowly pin pointed the source of the smell.702Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjVRuCUwleZ
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On his left a bed was stationed, he could not make out the colour nor size, deep inside he had an uneasy feeling knowing the position it was laid. The light was stopped halfway by a long desk, the light and plank wood colour with its’ smooth textured lead him to a wall mounted corner-shelf. The shelf was half-filled with books that he could not make out the titles. He tested his eyes as they slowly adjusted to the limited light and scanned around, finally back to the bed. There was a figure, maybe even two, beneath the duvet or blanket. The shape only forming visibly when the moon outside of the small open panel window shifted, now noticeable as light gave the bed a more defined angle, whatever light left escaped the clutches of the small head and placed themselves onto the wall behind the bed.702Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMYfqn6wry2
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A smooth but audible movement could be heard as a hand stuck out itself as if the owner was awake, and rest itself on top of the sheet. it was as pale as the moon outside, small and delicate with signs of feminine traces. Cay did not wonder, it just came into his mind by the time he made out the shape of the arm, Jenna. As a growing anxiety stirred within his throat, another movement occurred, his eyes darting from the bump larger beside Jenna’s. A face emerged when Cay was about to say something, but it was not visible, somehow intestinally hiding itself behind the obscurity of the shadow. A hand and second later the entire arm slid out lethargically slid towards Jenna’s small limb, crawling that seemed more like sliding thanks to his past lover’s smooth, milky skin. It’s palms was large enough to consume her hands as it wrapped around the latter with a gentle force, protecting it from whatever harm it might have come.
The sadness he felt grew to a flat depression and the anxiety he felt earlier had escape from his caging throat. He knew he should have done something but felt helpless by the invisible force holding him still. The heart-felt aura consuming him, he felt it permeating through his skin like a lukewarm shower. He was surprised at his own coolness, seeing another arm that was not his enveloping itself to keep the smaller one from any harm.
*
Would not it be convenient to know one’s intentions and to predict another’s future outcome? A journey shaped by your very own hands, immune to outside forces that may shake your very foundation of decisions and anticipation.
Freud said the human mind is shaped by cognition, by observing someone or something else and to stand in or out of the process of monotony and predictable mind frame. The author Simon Montefiore mentioned many times in his book that only love can overcome anything. However, what happened if anything is just a limited concept of what our brain capacity could imagine and prove?
Some said love could be told through the eyes and heart of the lover, through exposure of time and observation might we learn from our hurt inflicted on a friend, family member, and significant other. Would it be cold to just observe as an attached entity without the feeling of jealousy and loneliness? That would probably be why psychologists of today could do cold calculations and foresee with a degree of credibility of his or her patients. Prescribing whatever advice or medicine that suppressed the mentally inflicted patient with striking effectiveness. Would a psychologist come to really love someone broken down to the core?
Marcel Proust would have been the bridge between the cognitivist and the romantist if he had graduated with a psychology degree. Roland Barthes the saint of why things were shaped, intrinsically and physically. His study told the significance, the signify, the signifying object, and the process of signifying. Anyone would be an understanding father or great analysist loved by both humans and business. The students of semiology would have written great love stories had they not been busy telling what that meant instead of swelling in a perpetual process of deep thoughts.
Love could be as simple as the surface for the observing lover. The caress of the hand on forehead and the sensitive brush of the hair on his knuckles as he felt the warmth of his partner’s thighs. Mechanically speaking, our bodies acted like circuitry when we touched the body of another entity---- the skin the electrical conductors, the minds a regulator, the feelings as currents, and the heart the generator. Would engineers make great lovers if they interpreted their husbands or wives as just an intricate machine solvable by complex algorithms?
There was the common person, a simple administrator or a housewife, owning just a bachelor’s degree maybe even just a diploma, who worked at an insignificant salary or allowance. He or she who dwell in thoughts without the specialist’s mind could be troublesome, but not narrow-mindedly. Their problems and solutions would be much simpler than the occupations as mentioned before. Therefore, their problems lighter?
It all weighted on comparable trust. A common person’s dilemma would be way serious than a scientist with a loving partner. It was trust that Abridged the signify to the signified, the trustworthy hand that brushed the entire foreign body, the romantists' pinnacle of conclusions, and the writer’s fictional endings.702Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4aWvh8YWbN
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It was trust that we gained love, and later to love to trust. A calf attached itself to its’ mother not because of love, but by its’ lifeline it placed on the udder filled with the succulent nutrients of the white nectar. We should not worry about our lover but the trust in ourselves.
How much trust would you put in yourself or another if your life depended on it?
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