There was a time when everything was not only possible but real. There was a time when I lived upon the stars, in a magnificent ideal future of me and him. There was a time of him being all I needed to feel alive. There was our time, there, just below the Twin Tower, in small puppy love we made, looking to the future and living magically apart.
We were a different reality, yes we were in our twenties, yes young and stupid, maybe but happy. So happy and joyful. Simply the perfect love-story we had.
We used to reach the Twin Tower in the nite time, around 10 pm, have some Indian or Japanese food around there, where Manhattan is not so Manhattan and the streets are not squared but alleys, where the nite is not trendy but cool enough to walk alone. We used to sit there, kissing, talking and laughing forever. Really forever. A moment was our life of children, a villa in Miami and one in LA, a lifetime together traveling from the islands to Italy and come back.
A life to be, just there below the Twin Tower, looking upon us as the loving parents we dreamt of. There was a time where little dreams grew up and stand alone there. Our world was there, not only the World Trade Center.
Nites ran away, years went through. We grew older and wiser, we cut off and start living a real life: a degree, a job, and a serious relationship. What a life to be! Our parents were, eventually, happy. We were two young adults.
Our world lied ahead the Twin Towers, we had said Good bye to our chit chats, our children to be, our dreamt future. So much pain I do remember. But It was a closure I prayed for, we were too much to handle for both of us.
We were so distant, so different and so culturally involved in our families and countries, we could have loved so much just there, where the stocks are traded, where the futures are bets to win. We lost our bet. It was meant to be. Wel acked the fundamentals. We were like a house without foundation, flying in the wind of will be, better would be.
We were black and white, high and small, educated and not. We were not.
After some times I went back there, somebody else keeping my hand, I went up the Twin Towers, the fog was around us and my heart was bleeding for us, for the foggy future I had ahead. There you weren’t anymore. No news of you, no one. You were my sin, my black hole, my guilt. But I wished to be there kissing you again, oh fool me. The hand I tightened was not anymore. A sorrow filled my soul, the fog won. I couldn’t see you, I couldn’t see me. Where did I stand?
Then, in a gray afternoon, tapping on my PC, somebody screamed in my office… The Twin Towers are getting down. Terrorism.
I was there again, hugging you, kissing you and praying the forever Gods I had in front of me, my Towers, to stay still, to keep strong and tight. But They collapsed. I collapsed, you collapsed. All the world became as one in pity and sorrow and death.
Our place of love was a place of death.
I searched you, I found you on the ICQ and we talked, deeply, intimately. Who we had become, who we were going to be. Our love didn’t collapse under the rubble, or maybe it did.
My 9/11 I lost a piece of me… flew away in the sky upon, lost on the ground below. My young and foolish Arianna is still there kissing a future not meant to be, living a life of rubble. I lost myself that day, my youth.
I lost my American dream. My girl, I would have loved to be.
Bye my Towers, bye my love.
Still we are friends, we were not meant to be only but affection. Because sometimes the dreams overcome oceans and countries to be just affection, in a day of death. There was hope again, in the world.
