Your story of love

Legendary or real, great loves that any culture remembers as its noble memory are only a reminder that we, the less known to others, are part of this grand phenomenon, - important and unique as any love is. We thus open the Global Love museum to contributions of the living lovers, - asking you to share with us your own story. Do bear in mind that we shall have to employ editing so as to keep it as short as possible for the readers.

First story

Love is about the free space and recognition of linkages

 

I was waiting for a year 2004 to arrive on the edge of one of the bridges in Zagreb. This particular one was a railway bridge connecting two shores of Sava River in the south-western part of the city.

There we were on its’ metal construction high up. The two of us, in a chilly Sylvester night cuddled together, wrapped up in a blanket with only a cup of hot punch from the flask warming us, we waited for time to come.

 

I remember being astonished and frightened at the same moment, by an enormous shadow of a train coming straight towards us while I was clinging to T. tightly, holding on to his body with my eyes firmly shut, awaiting for the train to pass and fade away in the dark horizon…to the other side of the bridge.

The pollution and illumination of the big city dimmed the view of the skies above us placing us in an odd but secure bubble of distant night-lights and misty air filled with sound of water passing below us.

The New’year’s was approaching and the spectacle of the commotion of the train coming towards us was a grand sensation, an epitome of the ever moving time.

 

Sava was flowing with ease, I sensed residual quivers of the bridge shaken by a train that passed just a few moments ago…We could hear far-away voices in the air, a few people passing by the bridge…

 

Further up on the river there were colored lights and lampions of the docked boats. People inside of them were undoubtedly celebrating; there was music there, the atmosphere probably noisy and crowded, packed with bodies in heat moving to the beat intertwined with laughter, murmur and oblivion of the split second of the midnight tick...

 

Oh… but I clearly remember the silence around us. It was not the absence of sound kind of silence.

It was sheer calmness.

 

We were so close. Almost, hearing each other’s thoughts. Certainly, sensing our emotions.

 

[Long distance relationships are like this: either they grow on the spatial distance or they fade by the spaces unconquered by patience and hope.]

 

Distance. The fine line of belonging and letting go.

Distance was never an issue with the two of us; it was merely an element of the bond that we share.

 

There and then on that bridge it was obvious.  

 

2004 was going to be a linking year in many prospects.

 

And it was. From that moment on we’ve begun to share the same space and same home occupied by love. But none the less whilst we weave and nurture carefully and with admiration the existence that connects us, the fine lines between, mirrored in our characters, passion and individual take offs to the quests of inner nature,  are preserved and cherished. Love is all about the free space and recognition of linkages.