We burned a CD for you.
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Who is now, officially, a pisălog, hopefully making even more people smile.
We wish you a birthday full of kalimera, souvlaki, and sand in your bag (but no sand between your bedsheets, cause that's a legit curse). We love you lots!
We danced, we drank, we loved and cried, we sang and talked and shared the grief of unrequited loves, lost chances and spilled wine bottles on our emotional floor. In the heart of winter, when it took 50 minutes to get from your house to mine, when the snow was so high we could barely walk, you fell on your butt in front of KFC and we laughed so hard I thought our cheeks were going to crack.
There was so much life in us, and that spark of rage, rawness and vulnerability is what kept me going through the years. You are a flame that will always keep on burning, even in its clumsy dance of truth.
Although you're a terrible liar (cum ai putut sa ma lasi sa ies din casa in halu' ala, nu stiu), you have a particular talent to make things brighter through your presence. I also feel like now is the ideal moment to tell you that you have perfect teeth and I'm sometimes jealous of them.
Moving on… My life without you would feel like a black and white movie. And although we shot one together, I don't wish for anyone to feel that monochrome sadness of not having a friend like you. You fill the world with light, color, great music, and a lot of smelly farts.
... of the highs and lows, but most of all we were mapping the neverending feeling of being alive, free, untouched by time and the passing of it.
I learned how to be alive through you and I, a skeptical believer, learned that light manifests itself through the people the waves of life wash up your shore at a particular moment in time. I couldn't have asked for a better one to enter the doors of perception with.
The windows had to be opened. Every door had to be shut. Noses and mouths covered. Prayers whispered to the Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.
But honestly? Those are some of my favourite memories. Because you were there. In a place that felt like home to me. A very far away from everything home. You were the one who came, who stayed, who almost pierdut buletin, and who somehow managed to fill that apartment with even more warmth than the burritos filled it with... whatever that smell was...
Cooking burritos for you is a dangerous, high-risk, potentially biohazardous act of love. And I'd do it again every single time.
Not one single cup of coffee would taste the same without your amazing playlists that provide our background music for the smallest things in our lives. In a world full of heavy silence, you’re our walking jukebox. And we’ll keep on spinning until the lights go out.
Except one, of course. There is a particular light that will never go out.
