Friday, October 03, 2008
8:28 PM |
September of Five Years
I took this photo of you some months ago, in the makeshift studio that was my apartment's small library. Didn't we love that impromptu shoot? And how the pictures seemed to come out so well? The secret, I guess, is to photograph a subject one is intimate with. Look at that face. I've been staring at that face for five years now. There is no end for my fascination, it seems. I can study this face for hours, and find new nuances for every single known expression. Sometimes I also wonder where five years go. Has it been that long? Was there really a time when I didn't know you from Adam, when my days did not begin with an evocation of your name? I still think back to that late afternoon, in September 2003, when we agreed to meet for ice cream. Oh, baby, that was some ice cream indeed.
People joke, of course, that five years is actually fifteen in queer years -- which must make us an aberration, an amusement to some, a model of longevity for others. We laugh at the joke, but we know too well the old bumps in the road to take in readily that fairy tale. We talk about this sometimes: how, for example, we never really thought about the long years, or what it took to stay true. We have learned through the years not to rest easy, both of us. This thing takes work. Patience, too. And a supreme form of understanding for human frailty. All held together by the sheer truth that five years will not
be five years if what is between us is not real. That even when we sometimes get blindsided by stress and work, by damning responsibilities, by the constant temptations preying from everywhere, we know what's real -- and ultimately we know that this is the only thing that matters.
Labels: life, love
 This is Where You Bite the Sandwich
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