Things are better. Finally, slowly, we find our track.
The road is bumpy. I always dreamt of pure, white love, like dazzling snowflakes in a morning sky. Our apartment is brown instead of white, our love is bumpy instead of smooth. Still, he sets me free. Free from sorrow, tears, fear and pain. We’re happy together. Our future is bright. All is possible – we now can determine which road we want to take, together.
So we live in Brussels and we are working a lot. I’m back to being a lawyer, which makes me feel calm but sad at the same time. I try to look for other opportunities on a daily basis, and I am quite sure that one day I will find my way to another, exciting adventure which combines my love for art and culture, and my legal, analytic skills. Or that, I hope. As long as we hope, everything remains possible.
Some things are very good. I finally create my own family, instead of fighting the family I lost along the way. I see reality as it is. For now, I did a good job in developing myself as a young women. I still have some work, though. I miss my spark. My lust for life, my enthusiasm for what is new. It’ll grow again, soon. In a couple months, I might feel safe enough to take some more chances. Luckily, I have a lot of support.
I’m going to Paris for the weekend with the man I might marry one day. I hope to show him around, although I might have lost my way. It’s been years I’ve been to the city – the city in which I, for the first time, developed my feminine side, my hunger for life and my hopes for the future. I love Paris. I love speaking French, having dinner in little restaurants and drinks au bord de la Seine.
We might move to Paris, one day. Or to Copenhagen, London or Brazil. As I said, all is possible. And actually, that feels quite good.