2. [ Diagnosis of a Star]
´Where does she go to Doctor. Here but empty. Where is she present, if not in her body, her mind ? Here in this place where she has no one. Why has she not remembered my name. My face?’
‘She did not respond as she has gone to where she always goes when unseen. Somewhere between her heart and her soul, broken from the words that spill her being, inked in lonely fingertips like witnesses of confession. Too much, too little. Quiet, unassuming and barely there. Yet, loud in her absence. Fraying as the velvet that once caressed her skin. Not angered, not enraged, yet subtle in her wavering. A weakness to those who cannot understand yet forged in deadened silence, like the ash after a fire softly covering the snow in dusty presence. There she is. There she will be, fighting for dignity, in the most delicate of ways. Non-verbal, ever tragic yet stoic in her smile. She will not show but she will write and thus imprint her passions to a virgin page of nothingness. A melody unplayed, a memory lingering. Most likely my friend, her soul took over her mind and shut down to her heart and love unrequited. A ghost of herself, waiting to be heard. And until that day, she will remain a catatonic star waiting to be seen, light years away. Posthumously, gloriously and you will long to hold that light if for one more moment. Sadly, she will no longer be as she has already lost herself to you. I’m sorry my friend but some women love so loudly in silence they become deaf from their own echoes. And this is not your fault, merely an incapacity to understand the mind of such a delicate creature. Her soul was fractured long before you knew her.’
