By Marion Kouzeli
Dear August,
I am writing this letter to you in the hope of reliving my past. It is the warmest of summer days when my nostalgia ripples and crashes in song intervals; me, indulging song after song, chasing after a different emotion. I am sitting by the ocean so as one of its swells washes away my blue – ink –. Blueness mixed with the water’s depth, slowly swallowing my existence in its cold embrace, and I suddenly feel alive with each drop of the wave.
I am writing this letter because home is a fragment in time. A flashing moment when the vastness of the world didn’t scare you, the endless possibilities were wrapped around your fingertips, and you were their puppeteer. It is all the smiles you gave and received, the brush of another person’s cloth on your thigh, the fragrance of jasmine filling your lungs, the run through the night to catch the last bus, the heartful laugh of your friends, moments so tender, a blurry line between dream and real life.
Belonging is when you give your everything to make these fragments last longer. Longing is what I am doing now, standing in front of my past moments undressed, vulnerable, shimmering in the water.
I am writing this letter to climb at the top of the wave. Then wait for the drop.
Longing– December 2023
This month’s theme is inspired by the yearning to memories, humans and places which we experience emotionally and struggle perhaps expression them.
