It has never occurred to the minds of men that the world should be saved by a woman…

I’m sitting on a bus, among strangers, crying my eyes out. I’m lost! I don’t know what to do with my self. I have no roots! I have no land! I have no place to go, nowhere to call home!

I’m sitting on a bus wrapped in a smooth cocoon of bottomless sorrow. I’m sitting among strangers, hidden behind a thin veil of tears; I can’t see them, they can’t see me.

The moment I knew I loved you with all my heart… The moment I knew we were soulmates, best friends… The moment I knew we were going to stick together through ups and downs forever… That exact moment I was told you were gone.

Your last words, as I remember you spoke, before we hugged each other farewell, au revoir, was about our first night out. «Remember, Maria?». Your inappropriate, evil yet cheerful, and a little annoying laughter craving for attention. «Remember?». I would be a dumbass not to laugh with you. «Yes, Luca!». I laughed, but not half as beautiful. «Off course I remember! How can I forget? We laughed our hearts out til we almost barfed our guts, drinking too much, hunting pokemons, from one bar to another to the next to the final to the busstop.».

And all who was there, all who had eyes, all who had ears, all who could see and all who could hear, laughed along with us; one corny spirit, an ever lasting soul, but two equal sets of rotting flesh and bones.

What you said next, I don’t remember. I was too busy diving into your incredible, unbelievable eyes wich were obviously created to eat human souls alive. I remember my thoughts though. I thought that you, like me, not possibly could be of this world. That you could not be human. That you had to be something eternal. Like an elf. Or just something alien. And later that evening when we were sipping beer, or wine, or liquor, and you were yapping away about something I most probably wouldn’t get half of, but that most likely would be pretty clever, I would count the colours of those eyes.

Fate wanted otherwise.

Your soul must have been made of rainbows. Or maybe rainbows sprung out of your soul? I feel like I’m bragging calling you my twin, my sister in spirit. In your presence I felt so rich, and in your absence I feel so poor. When you were around, you were the light. You were the path. You were the truth, and you were life. Now you’re gone.

Our shimmering sunbeam, with your anger, your curses and hatred. Your embarrassing, loud laughter and outdoor voice everywhere. I feel like I’ve been hit by the Black plague and Holocaust all in one. How can I ever again look at a beech tree in it’s autumn pride without thinking of you? How can I ever again look at a rainbow, a redwine drinking skunk or the colour blue without remembering you? How can I ever again go to the Operahouse or a sideshow at Blitz without being hunted by your ghost, your wild child spirit?

I never got to spoil you rotten, or get you shitfaced drunk that night, and I know you wished for that a little more than peace on earth and a free card at the liquor store. But my last promise to you before you left me in tears, was to become a warrior of the oval ball, a rugby-player; loud and fierce. (I’m 46, bitch!). Now that you’re dead I can’t take that back, so I guess I’ll just have to run like a maniac out in the field of grass and make some fingers, teeth and bones crack. Just for you, beloved Cyan.

Oh, just shut up and laugh!

In this world you didn’t get old, our sweet and sour lemoncaramell, but you know what they say those who know; as long as they speak your name, you shall never die!

May the force be with you, Luca Sky Walker!