What did you do this summer?

I met love hearing to Poisel. I was the one listening to music.
Love continued the lyrics. My heart raced.
'Hey, I'm Phillip'. Of course.
And it was just the first day.

He didn't look like love, though.
As human as humanities allow us to be, love had lighter eyes.
"A broader back [...], freckles I wouldn't recognize
New birthmarks, a softer voice"*.

Love came gently, building contact everyday.
When I realized, love was already there.
Steady. Everyday. Routine.
At the exact time I needed routine the most.

Love was charming.
Love had this romantic way of living. Naturally.
Love liked to impress.
In the last day, love took me to get to know his city.

[That is what I like the most about big cities. Each and every person have an individual perspective and path within the same place, it's crazy.]

Love arrived first, of course.
Love explained historically each and every spot on our way. I made a lot of questions. He replied them all.
Love took me to his favorite ice cream place in the city.
Love don't like to go jogging, but he went with me and, on the middle of the path, took me to this paradise-looking park. My breath was gone.
Love knew my passion for fresh fruits. I saw myself in the biggest public market I have ever seen. I tried (almost) everything. We ended up having a beer.
Love also showed me his favorite spot in the city--where you see everything from above and the moon looks closer.

Love took us to the train station.
'Did you know that trains in Austria sound just like the piano when they arrive and when they leave their platform at the trainstation? They play a piano scale or something'.
I just waved. My heart raced, not in a good way.
Love was gone.
That was the saddest scale ever played.


* Originally written by Sarah Kay and Phil Kaye, in the poem 'When Love Arrives'.