-We're getting old – I leaned my head against his shoulder. I said the same sentence last year when we were sitting in the mountains. Now I said that again, while we were here- in my forest. - I hear more and more from those around me that I have changed,- I begin a sentence that I didn’t know how to finish.

-And yet, we're the same, - he patted my head, calming my mind down. We rise from the stairs of the porch and started to walk down through the cold dew towards the water. I smiled as I watched how he swim behind me. I know that I share something more by sharing this lake with a person. Just like others, when they introduce the most important people to their families, so was I at that moment. It's as if that, dark water, had left so much of me. One that even I don't know well.

I watch as he doesn't take his eyes off the forest. Just like me, walking on the same track every morning. Waiting. Like me, every morning. Waiting. But the roe deer don't come that morning. When he got inside, he heats up coffee and stopped at the painting he sent from the Balkans many years ago. He re-translates the text written on it. Like many times before. You are the tailor of my soul.

Silent. I'd describe the past summer. I know it was unusual for a lot of people that I hid among the woods and almost didn't stick my nose out of it. Like the mythical girl- Kirke,- I walked through the fields and forests murmuring my newly born thoughts and didn't get out of the waters in all those days. I blinked in front of the sun, like a little child, among the lilies, and wondered how a flying stork was waving his wings rattlingly. He's the only one with me. Back in days, there were two of them, who were flying upon me. Now he is alone, diving into the sky around. And he doesn't seem to be sad. It's good for him, alone in this summer, to fly above the woods. I took a deep dive into the depths of the water while thinking, that… We both, me and my stork, have so much in common. If anyone would asked – I would tell, how happy I was this summer But no one asked.

-Let's go– she suddenly got up and a second later, as I dipped my foot into the water, the clouds dissipated. I don't know how or when exactly she came into my life. All I know is that the first time we met- we met by the water. I think people like her remind me of the forest. She hears, she watches, she feels, and often she doesn't answer anything. Before I thought that the most important thing for me was to be approved today I am most comfortable understanding that someone sees me. Sits next to me. Hears and sees. I hope one day I will learn how to do that as well

- Here's to you, - she left the book with the title "Kirke" on the cover, and with while holding her camera with my summer in it, she says goodbye. Until the next one. - You'll love it.

If anyone would ask, I would answer that I wouldn't notice how my years are running if it weren't for them. Some kind of repetitive, happy Deja vu. If she would hear that, I know she'd smile. If he would hear that- he’d patted my head, reminding me that it wasn't always necessary to finish sentences. And we would be by the water.

Closer to myself- I'd say - closer to the water.

But no one asks.

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