„Those were the days“, my witch said, standing by the window and watching the first snow painting itself into the early sunset.
„When we were woken up by the sunrise, always next to each other. When all we had to worry about was making love before his strange visitors would arrive.“
Layla smiled, and the way of her remembering smile made me swallow heavily.
„I thought I had already known love“, my witch went on and played with a red curl having escaped her braid. „I had already been a wife, I had risked my life for a night with a lover outside of town … But never had it been as good es with him.
Her plague doctor.
„I can still sense him, smell him, when I close my eyes. It is almost as if there is a sweet spot deep inside of me that no other man can touch. I never wanted it to end. I remember mornings without getting dressed, just pondering over books and letters that he had received .. Always having our bodies fallen back into each other … Exploring the universe thoughts on thoughts and lips on lips …“
When I looked at Layla now, I saw the most lovely memories mirroring all over her face. Those days that she had lived for, but I also saw a shadow. I saw the shadow of time passing by. The bitter truth that one of those love nights leading to possibly dying in child birth. I saw the death of a lover, and the emptiness of days happening without having really been.
„It‘s those days that we live for“, I agree, lost in my own memories. „But most days are not even the dark opposite. They are just gray.“
„Good things are rare“, my witch said, picking up her cup of tea. „You have to make them bigger then they really were, otherwise life becomes unbearable.
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Mistress witch writes 