It had been 3 days and 520 years since Odysseus left me. The wait had worn on me so that I had deliriously turned into a shadowperson—translucent and bitter. My body was twice and a half the size of what it used to be, my memories were convoluted stories I repeated to myself and the blind joy of innocence had fallen from me petal by petal, one drop each day across the endless years. Back then my heart could not contain the fullness of the sun and my beauty was rivaled by no one. But it has been 520 years since Odysseus set sail, and I do not expect his return. The leaves fall outside my window and spell out words I had forgotten. The perfect lies and foolishly optimistic promises had disintegrated immediately after they left your lips.
7.09.2010
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