“You loved her, didn’t you?”

He sighed:

“How can I answer you? She was crazy.”

He ran his hand through his hair.

“God if she was completely crazy. Every day she was a different woman

One moment enterprising, the next awkward.

One moment exuberant, the other timid. Insecure and determined.

Sweet and arrogant.

She was a thousand women, but the perfume was always the same

Unmistakable.

It was my only certainty.

She smiled at me, she knew how to get me with that smile

When she smiled I couldn’t understand anything anymore,

I did not know how to speak or think anymore

Nothing, zero.

All of a sudden there was only her.

She was crazy, completely crazy.

Sometimes she cried.

They say that in that case women just want a hug,

She does not.

She gets nervous.

I do not know where she is now, but I bet she is still looking for dreams.

She was crazy, completely crazy.

But I loved her madly.”

Charles Bukowski

painting by Francesca Strino