And to entertain himself, he painted the same painting over and over again
"Tell me they were seen. Even if it was only a day. Tell me Emil knew Xaver hadn't forgotten him. " My words sound almost like a plea.
your parents won't let us see.
I turn to this letter to write what I have never been able to tell you.
I want you to know that I love you.
Yes, Emil, I love you.
We had been taught that ours was not love, but I realized that it was. "
That's why I don't want to lose you without telling you.
I love you from the first day we entered high school and we escaped to the cemetery to smoke a cigarette. "
I love you from that kiss in the Sander's stable.
I love you so much that the thought of seeing you again was the only thing that kept me alive in the Serbian trenches. "
You wouldn't need words. We we would look and we would be children in the halls of the Institute, before the death, before the bombs, before the hate that became us the old men we are”.
For your smile to make me believe that our love meant everything and threw some light in this century that was born dead. "
Yours, Xavier. "
He was 22 years old.
(the next part will be the last of #EmilyXaver. Stay tuned!)
And you were complicit in it.
You were all. "
I contemplate the tombstone.
I read their names over and over again.
Emil and Xaver.
Xaver and Emil.
Nothing's changed, but nothing's the same.
But silence is not the only thing here.
The wind that centuries whispers with secrets in my ear.