I am in agony. Without Lev here, I feel lost. He made me whole. He was me and anti-me. He wore my clothes and looked so handsome in them, in the same way he wore my soul and made it shine. He was a contrarian to the core — always questioning, never accepting, often infuriating. There was a fierce beauty about him, like an untamed lion, with a snarling scowl and rough-hewed whiskers. Yet inside remained the innocent child, filled with wonder and steeped with imagination. The world has lost a magical spirit, a force that bent the foundations of the cosmos and strived for the bold and original.
Where shall I go to find another like him? I am trapped here in this earthly frame; the air fills my lungs but does not nourish me. All is surrounded with the veneer of sadness; the very idea of joy seems impossible. I yearn to touch him, to grab his arm, to rub his cheek. How I miss his presence — the sound of his voice, his footsteps on the stairs, his place at the table.
Once he caught me crying at a sappy movie and told me how disappointed he was. I was his hero, he said, the one who showed no pain. I did my best to be a hero to him, to cross the trestle even though I feared the heights, to jump in the freezing water, to box and wrestle and sword fight. Who will push me now? I grow soft and weak and weary.
Where shall I go to find another like him? I am trapped here in this earthly frame; the air fills my lungs but does not nourish me. All is surrounded with the veneer of sadness; the very idea of joy seems impossible. I yearn to touch him, to grab his arm, to rub his cheek. How I miss his presence — the sound of his voice, his footsteps on the stairs, his place at the table.
Once he caught me crying at a sappy movie and told me how disappointed he was. I was his hero, he said, the one who showed no pain. I did my best to be a hero to him, to cross the trestle even though I feared the heights, to jump in the freezing water, to box and wrestle and sword fight. Who will push me now? I grow soft and weak and weary.
