Have you really lived, after all, if you haven’t searched for your beloved’s face at an airport gate, cursing the flight delay because you have only a week before you must part again?
We should all be so lucky to seal in our memories the image of our lover on our doorstep, suitcase in hand, clothes wrinkled from a long trip, skin emanating a scent that we’ve forgotten but suddenly comes rushing back, bringing with it the recollection of the last time, which was too long ago and too brief, and ended with a tearful goodbye on this same doorstep.
It’s the most wonderful and most difficult thing I do in life, and I miss her already.
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