It is too cold and I slowly walk enjoying the air that clears me up. I think about nothing, since walking by the streets of old Toledo is comforting. I came to do some important paperwork and, so as not to waste the hours of the morning, I ate an ice cream in Zocodover Park. Later, I will go to Alcazar Library to have some coffee in the bar on the last floor. I love visiting Toledo from there; I will walk around through the corridors and enjoy its art works. Even though it may not seem healthy, ice creams taste better in winter, and it is a pleasure I enjoy anytime I can.
I am looking at tourists, paying little attention to them; there are from all, classes?, Negroes, Asians, Normans, Franchises, Arabians and South and North Americans, as well as many others whose origins I cannot guess, even if I tried really hard. There is too much noise, so I look what they are wearing. I enter into panic when someone asks me about a location, I enjoy Toledo but I am really not aware as regards touristic areas, for I am too bad at being a touristic guide. I only walk around and enter the places I always visit, which are many.
There is too much history and, luckily, everything is near to everything. You can walk around its streets made of cobblestone and full of corners, which are so narrow that, when a car passes by, you have to get into a door and the driver, with a lot of expertise, must drive a few centimeters from the walls of that sort of street which is in fact an alley, whose walls are pierced by thousands of mirrors.
What is more, whenever tourists ask you something, they usually do not speak even a little Spanish or English, and with short words, gestures and pictures, they want to know how to get somewhere. I have learnt the move I have to do since, on the other side of the street, there is an office for tourists. There are many of these, and I know where they are, just in case. By doing said movement, I point or draw the way to the office and, once they get there, they can speak or do some gestures, even though these offices have maps with all the necessary information.
I usually ask for these maps when I must go to a certain place, so as not to waste my time or get distracted with other things. Even shops that sell souvenirs are beautiful, and yes, I get distracted easily and usually get lost in Toledo, but I do not care.
As I have said, I was calmly enjoying an ice cream as I distractedly looked at the park. Through the crowd, I thought I saw someone I knew, but he was gone. I was sure that he had seen me, because I felt I was being watched. However, it could not be who I thought it was, for he lived too far war, an ocean and a life away from me.
I have always had the hope that the dreams that hunted me night and day would become true with an ordinary meeting in the streets of any city, but it was something that my mind always put in its place: the place of the impossible, those things that will never come true and shine with glory, just like a fantasy that becomes true regardless of the fact that human logic tells you it is an ancient story known worldwide, no matter your education, culture or religion.
But I had seen him, and the idea of an impossible becoming true totally caught my mind, so I tried to remember what I had seen, closing my eyes and looking at the point where I saw him. And there was nothing. I hated myself for being so distracted, for I always looked at everything, but nothing called so much my attention to really watch it. I usually let my mind flow inventing stories about the people who walked by.
I closed my eyes; someone had stepped by my side. He smelled delicious, and I heard:
I believe my heart stopped, my eyes filled with tears and I did not want to open them. If he was talking to someone else, I did not want to know. I could still dream for a while, it would hurt no one and it would be part of my dreams. I usually take those moments as if they were mine so as to calm the pain of knowing that what I want is and will always be impossible.
I just stayed smelling that exquisite smell, but it was too close, and, this time, he spoke to me, in my ear:
I opened my eyes, which were surely red due to my tears, and I saw him. How do I say “hello”? I could not speak, with my empty mind and a knot in my throat that prevented me from saying a word. I needed to say something similar to “hello” or he would think I was a fool.
He was so handsome that I only wanted to touch him. I wished he would not vanish and that my fingers could touch is hair and feel the warmth in his lips.
You looked at me with those penetrating eyes, as my mind remembered what I was wearing, that my hair was messy, that my nose was red due to the cold weather and that I had an ice cream, which was melting in my hands. I felt ugly and stupid and he was all I wanted. Without thinking, I got closer. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted his lips and his hands. I wanted to love him.
I felt that sensation of urgency, fear and miracle. I said:
You touched my cheeks and dried my tears. None of us said a word. I did not want to speak, for it was enough just to have you and believe that, for an instant, you could be what I needed for an entire life.
I do not react fast, for I only stared at him. He took my by the hand and got up. He pulled my arm and, without saying a word, he took me into the crowd. I did not care where we were going. I was not worried about getting lost in the messy streets of Toledo. I only wanted him to hold me against his body.
He walked knowing where he was going. He surely knew the place he was taking me to, and I only wished it would be a place where we could be alone, to kiss him as I had never kissed anyone before, until getting drunk with his smell and making crazy things, alone, with the love of my life.
Yes, you were my love. The love I took in my heart, with resignation, and the love I held inside my soul, but the love no one in my everyday life knew about. You did not exist for the rest and, since you did not exist, nobody knew the dreams and the conversations I had with you until falling asleep.
I wanted to get to the place we were going to. Stop, I prayed in silence, and kiss me, I cannot wait any longer. In a small street, you passed through an almost invisible door. It could be any place. Here, nothing looks like a hotel, a bar or a museum. You enter and you find something beautiful or something ruined.
We passed by the reception; it was a hotel. The name of the hotel must have been in a corner of the alley or in the door, but I only had eyes for him, and I cared very little as regards the place I was in. He continued walking firmly through a corridor, with narrow stairs, and then, finally, there was a door.
You did not enter. We just stayed in front of it and you looked at me waiting for a “yes, you can open, but if you do it we will not get out”.
I could not think, and I did not ask him how and why he was there. I could not think about anything but the need of him, and that I was afraid he could leave, that my mind might be playing with myself and that I could wake up at any moment.
We walked in and, when you closed the door, I realized I was awake. He was kissing me the way I wanted, he touched me bringing me to life and I could not avoid starting to cry. I had too much love and passion inside, so I cried because happiness existed.
Very softly, we started to touch. We acted like teenagers holding a new body, his and mine. We did not know how to start, where to start to shake. We were two lovers playing with a volcano. We could not remember how to do it. We only wanted to have each other, and calming the thirst we felt for each other was necessary. Then, we could make it softly, like in my dreams.
The clothes fell and I still do not know how it was winter. He was wearing a lot of clothes, but my hands undressed him and he managed to undress me quickly. I was delighted to feel his hands all over me, desperately, eager to know every part of my body, which I helped him discover. And my hands, which had imagined to touch his moles, mouth, chest, and to discover his shoulders, and his back, were doing it as my closed eyes memorized his body.
The bed was big, but that did not matter because we only needed room for one body. I had desired him so much, and he was so tuned on, and awake. I pushed him and bend over him. I needed to feel him inside of me, for he was mine and I was his. I wanted him to feel everything I felt: the animal instinct he provoked on me, which I could not hold. I did not want to seem nice or correct. I wanted to let go of everything he made me feel when he looked at me, when he touched me. His member was soft and erect, and I felt it inside of me, driving me crazy, praying that his mouth would kiss my breasts.
He hugged me and, suddenly, he was above me. He moved as he looked at me with a desire that made my back bend, and making me want more, until becoming one. My hands held his body, and I could smell his desire, and lust, which was so mine as his body, and I was so his as he wanted.
My entire world was in that room and he was taking me to heaven. He was making me feel like dying and being reborn. I looked at him and saw the face I had always imagined. I fell over him, satisfied, and he kissed me, softly. I did not want speak, and neither did he. I only wanted to hug him and keep him close.
I wanted to rest and start all over again, but this time, touching every centimeter of his skin. If it were for me, people could lock us, throw the key and let us in that place forever. Nothing in the world could take me away from what I always dreamed of.
I still do not know if I am in the park with my eyes closed, dreaming, like I always do, but his smell, his heat, his look, his hands, and this sensation of height cannot be untrue.
Tell me love; tell me that the impossible fought reason.