Mikou

Yes, you. You know who you are. Not so silent calm of my life. The echo of many years of figuring things out. An echo with a body, soul and mind. Simple requirements met to the exact proportions. A blurr of perfections and imperfections, many things slide easily, others need adapting. A constant ever changing mass of static electricty, sweeping up the leaves from the ground, driving on the pavements and kissing me on a bridge over a still river with trees so tall you'd think Dali had painted them to laugh at reality. A coveted dreamscape literally cramming as much quiet and fresh air into our collective memories. This is where i grew up, and I finally took you there. You, my other, finally saw where it all took place, where all the beauty and monsters of my childhood took hold of my mind.

The charming smile that makes every girl in the room skip a beat, used with full knowledge of the banality of feminine simplicity. Then the layer beyond, an intelligent stronghold, ready to see the world from my strange strange view but then also helping me see why everyone else sees it the "normal" way. Finally, the best part, the coup de grace, the part I'd scoop up in my cupped hands and blow at the whole world so that they'd experience even a fraction of the happiness. The soul, the entity, the core, just...basically...you. You who sees my child and skips along with it. You who sees my broken mirror and traces the cracks so gently so that they seem less and less important. You who lets me whispers quietly in french amongst the rose smoke. Je t'aime, je t'aime, je t'aime. A greek deity among the commoners, a polish sweetheart amongst the bourgeous belgians and a single note of clarity amongst the confused looks.
Yes, you.