"...And suddenly we were strangers again..."
... her eyes no longer shone at his memory, for it had become that which we keep with suspicion deep in our hearts, like a relic, an immeasurable treasure; so, she had decided when she chose to stop crying.
There, in the turbulent majesty of her stormy heart, among those scorching waves, she had decided to bury in the bottom of that sea that priceless chest that she had so many wounds, she had chosen not to deal with the fact that she might have lost it forever, she let Dietfried try to heal the hemorrhage that bled her heart.
she let his embrace turn into bandages, let his dedicated kisses mend the gaping wounds, let him sail into her storm and be shipwrecked on her shore, only to see her once again glow.
He let his fingers travel between her shoulders, strolling along her cheeks until they bloomed like roses, to wrap around her waist and nestle there forever.
It was not the deepest goodbye in the history of his search for what love was, it was the greatest evasion in his history, not knowing how to deal with the loss and the uncertainty of having perhaps lost the hope of finding the answers to his questions, of the man who planted the seed of curiosity in his heart for the first time; and he would never stop being that man the first, Dietfried could never fight against that.
"... and maybe they were always words made for memories and not for people..."
and again, like every day since that one, Dietfried found her writing letters to him, writing letters to no one; his fingers on the typewriter became like seagulls that furrowed the entire ocean looking for her eyes and finding them nowhere. At Violet's side he had discovered that he was no match for his brother, never was, and that today nursing the love that beat for her he realized that the hurt he had once caused had been returned to him with bliss, one that he must learn to protect and treasure.
The incinerating memory that spread within those letters gnawed at the captain's curiosity, his patience running out as his love for Violet grew. He felt the relentless desire to stop her, to be able to tell her why she didn't write letters to him, that he was there in front of her in the flesh. But that would be a great and painful mistake, just as when he tried to take her to the family mausoleum, forcing her to say goodbye to Gilbert on a tombstone where nothing but dirt lay.
And that was something that Dietfried could not avoid no matter how much he wished it, just as he was certain that he could lose her completely if her brother showed up at that door one day. But today he just wanted to be happy, ignorantly happy.
He had struggled deeply in his dreams with the memory of his brother, he had asked her forgiveness for having fallen in love for no reason, he asked forgiveness for not having cared for his own feelings for Violet and having let her endear his soul to her.
but to look at her, to see in her eyes the universe every time he found a picture of Gilbert, he just wanted to be by her side, to see her like those flowers blooming, that her eyes could think of him with the same fierceness with which she loved Gilbert.
And DAMN IT! he had her, at last he could hold her in his arms, see her reflection in his pupil, but deep down he knew that he had only sown a seed of confusion in her, yes, she was still not completely his and he could feel deep down in his heart how that painful fact would slowly break her heart.
It was never too big a word to be true, but it was what she was feeling in this cramped world where Violet could still find Gilbert in any memory, in any space of her will, where she would never look at him as she looked at him, jealousy found its space embedding itself and traveling like worms through all her thoughts, occupying any small space to lay its eggs of uncertainty and grow.
The typing of Violet's typewriter suddenly roused him from his slumber; she smiled so falsely at him that his eyes could not hold the lie; he turned to disappear with her darkness into his study.
"Maybe there's something you're afraid to say, or someone you're afraid to love, but it's going to hurt and it will hurt because it matters."
Self-absorbed and absorbed only in those dreaded thoughts that his heart made swirls in his mind with the uncertainty of her so unimaginable and painful passion. He burned her with his gaze every time his eyes met hers, when his fingers escaped to meet hers the electricity coursed through everything without leaving a free space.
And every day of every instant, as the impatient hands of the clock hung on the wall, he spent his days in his study with his chest tight, fearing that any day that door would open and all his unfounded fears would come true. So, like a child infatuated with a sweet in his hands; Dietfried every chance he got would steal a kiss, a hug, wrapping his arms around her waist, hiding his face against her neck in some bright hallway of the house. Pulling her hands to hide between her skirts and wait for the moon to let him embrace her in the middle of the darkness.
"I loved her...and that was the beginning and the end."
