So, Milan didn't blow me away like Venice had. In fact, Milan seemed like a really poor version of Madrid. I could see similarities, but Milan didn't pull it off. Any of it. People were clearly loaded and geared to representing the fashion the city is known for at the price of a more down to earth existence. There was something alien about the place and its people. I didn't feel any connection with it like I had with Venice only the day before.
The only connection I found was with an Australian woman called Audrey who was staying at the same hostel. She was really good to talk to, which was something I'd been missing all day.She had these exciting eyes sparkling in the dark outside area where we were sat on the floor, initially with others and a little later just the two of us alone together. I wanted to take her to my room, just lie there, talk all night or until I inevitably fell asleep. I wanted to imagine the ceiling, the roof away and discuss the universe with her while the stars were all ours. All of them for us. Dancing across that sky.
Yeah, she had tattoos, and no, I'm not a big fan at all, but the meaning of each helped me on my way to forgiveness, haha. She wasn't serious. I like that. I am often the same. Life is so short, why waste it being unnecessarily serious? She was funny and cute. Okay, so I wanted to taste her and lick her legs as we had discussed earlier, jokingly in conversation (don't ask how that happened), but to be serious for a second her pins did look ripe for a licking. Absolutely so.
I had a room to myself. I had two massive double beds in there. A room big enough to hold them and have extra space. I could have got lost in there, in the ocean of that bed (well, I had to pick one, didn't I?). It felt almost tragic that I was in there alone. I slept well, even if it was too late really. A woman somewhere would have wanted to be there with me. I wish I could have felt that then. I just felt like the king of all loneliness again. I didn't like that. I failed these last days in turning everything into a positive as I had lately so well. I wanted some genuine affection. Ellie was a year ago now. People had wanted me since, I'd wanted some people too, normally different ones, yeah, you know, not the ones who wanted me. All kinds of situations had arisen, in fact. I'd hurt some people unintentionally. I'd almost been hurt myself if not for having a philosophy where I didn't feel I could lose, because all life, no matter what, was a valuable and life-enhancing experience. But now I can feel a hole. I don't like it. Maybe these four days travelling has highlighted the void. I didn't expect it. Maybe it's been growing inside since the Russian actress. She swept through the night like a deceptive wind rustling the leaves. Pieces of some giant puzzle, a tapestry, life.
I imagined us lying on one of the giant beds each and just talking. Then it would become quiet and I'd go and climb the walls onto the bed she was on. I'd tell her not to worry and just stroke her hair and face, look into her eyes a little. I might even kiss her. Kiss the world away. Kiss that face until it melted from the heat, from the surprise, from the tenderness, and the madness of the days. A stranger doesn't need to be strange.
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