Work Text:
Another Sunday goes by, another week that the gentle summer breezes carry my smile away. Just like autumn, it will soon turn bitter, just like the leaves of the trees.
Just as you did, summer will be gone on an ordinary September afternoon. With autumn the sparkling colour of nature disappears, yet it welcomes passionate crimson colours, like the flames of hope that you awakened in the hearts of all.
Not everyone likes autumn. For most of us it is a time of change, of letting go and preparation for a new beginning. Even if it brings cold winds, people always find a blazing fire and company to gather around and warm their hearts and minds together.
I don't like autumn. I don't know if I want to like it or if I ever will. I liked summer, the last summer we spent together to be precise. Every day was full of light, the sun greeted me every morning, bathing my body in kisses and with her warm hands caressed my cold, pale body.
The banquets were different, with the presence of the summer sun everything was more beautiful, brighter, more... special.
A bird always kept me company and sang to me. Its singing filled me with peace, it made me feel accompanied. Thanks to its company, I felt that everything would be alright forever... but just like you, the sun and the last summer I spent with you... were no more.
After that last summer sun, there were a few stormy days. The clouds were so dark that I hoped they were the shadows and that your departure was just a horrible nightmare.
But the days passed and people were still celebrating your goodbye, they were still celebrating the future... a new time of change and progress, their dark summer was over and now their thrilling autumn was beginning.
I used to like autumn, because I knew that another summer with you would come again sooner or later. I knew that in autumn, winter or spring, you would be with me.
How can I say that I like any season at all, when I know that my sun and its warmth, my little bird and her singing, will never come back?
You know very well that I am not like that. I know myself and I am not like this. That nothing of what I feel right now is Thelema Nutriscu's own. But then... Who am I? Am I still myself without you, Maria?
You were a Fool beyond saving. And now, I may be that fool.
I will live the rest of my life, remembering the last summer we lived, the last summer you abandoned me.
I hope that one day these letters will reach you. I miss you, María.