I remember hardly anything about the Krakow trip. Only little moments that come in my mind as flashes.
For example, I remember the train and me sleeping with you, in your arms. We were just sleeping, no more, but enough. Enough for me to understand.
And then I remember also you were so jealous. You turned off your mobile, and I tried to call you many times, I was crying in the bus.
It was cold on the day we visited Auschwitz. Minus twenty maybe, lots of snow around. It was already a sad kind of day, also if I should have seen it before.
I was crying in that bus for you. But why? You were completely right to be jealous, I hadn’t liked you any more for months but I was not able to confess it to you, not even to myself.
Sometimes, things become clear after years. I was blind to my feelings. I still am now probably and I will see later, in the next parts of my life.
You paid part of that trip for me, I remember. You wanted to help me to be more free, but not a lot.
I was there for seven days, and for seven days I received seven letters from you at home. I don’t remember what was written in them. My mind says just lots of “I miss you”. In all seven letters from each of the seven days. The words repeated and repeated until they lost all meaning.
This is what I remember clearly of what was around a trip, counting the days before and the days after it.
(I want to thanks my friend Bethan for helping me in writing english correctly)