it felt like i have just been reborn.after spending what seemed to be countless of days reading 'the rule of four,' my entanglement with the novel ended an hour or so ago.
it was satisfying. the book revolved around the renaissance text 'hypnerotomachia poliphili,' which translates to poliphilo's strife of love in a dream, a narrative in which the protagonist pursues polia, his love, his lover, whom he would die for and kill for, in a dreamlike escape.
the book itself presented a lot many things that need some serious digesting, and true enough, it took me close to a week before i could say i have read all four hundred something pages of it. what i really liked about the story is that it in itself was a short treatise for one of the major events in renaissance italy, when savonarola gathered all things negating christianity - art and texts alike - and burned them all as if to cleanse the city of its sinfulness.
now i am sitting in my study, watching my lifetime as she goes in and out of slumber, where i am blessed with brief moments to tell her i love her or that she should go back to sleep as i will be here when she wakes up.
i have told her several times over that i have returned to my passion for reading so i can keep myself preoccupied, believing it would make it easier for me to stop thinking about 'that' old mistress - smoking.
true enough, the last 9 books i have read in a month and a half gave as much help as i allowed them to offer.
but what i hope my lifetime would realize is that it is she who i hoped would keep me busy - and whom has actually kept me busy and made the idea of quitting something totally plausible.
then i go back to that notion when we wrestle with love in our wake and even in our dreams - that has so far been the kind of journey i have been sharing with her for the last nineteen months (or more), and every day i am grateful i am able to hear her voice when i open my eyes, and that the notion of closing them does not strangle my desire because she exists everywhere - she breathes and lives in every imaginable space and corner of my being.
it has been an endless renaissance for this soul. since she said she loves me. since that second she could no longer contain her emotions and decided to reach out for me and kiss me. since that moment she said she will do what she can to make me hers.
love liberates. it uplifts, compromises, to some point negotiates. love is the one i am looking at right now, with her hand on her face, her body draped with silence as she rests after a long and arduous day at work. love is her smile and her pause when she thinks or when she tries to conjure an idea to make me forget just how tough the day has been without her, love is her voice when she invites me to join her in a meal. love is her passion to want to build dreams. and it would appear that her love is the sigh of the moon right before the sun retreats in the horizon.
it has all happened. and hundreds of days later we still find moments we laugh and go back to how we began. it has happened and it is still happening.
happy nineteenth, mahal ko.
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