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It all started in a café not too far from here. You said meet me. I said wait. ‘My wife hasn’t fallen asleep yet.’ You waited. I never came. You stopped waiting. You walked into a museum. You were so proud to be out and about alone. I was so proud. I knew that I couldn’t live without you, but I wasn’t about to let you know. The first thing you wrote to me was that you couldn’t hold on tight enough, that you couldn’t keep me. From there on you decided you never wanted to let go. So I held on. You stopped at this one piece of art, the second floor I think. You were so stoic in thinking. I was lost in thought. I was running around the entire building mumbling to myself, ‘this is shit. This is all shit. Every picture looks the same and none of it looks like anything special to me. So you can paint a picture of the present, big stinking deal. I’ve seen the future and its smells a hell of a lot better than anything you call real. You’re calling it art these days are you? Fine. I think you’ve finally killed the notion of it with your distasteful renditions. And for that I must thank you, sincerely, not sarcastically; it needed to be destroyed.’ All my mumbles made me lose track of time and forget what I was looking for. That’s when I caught sight of you. The most beautifully pair of jean squeezed thighs I’d ever seen, I’d know them anywhere. You were still standing at the same stupid picture. I still hated every bit of what it seemed to represent. I still wanted to watch you watch it all day. I had nowhere else to be in the world but by your side. I had nothing else to see but you. So I stood behind you and laughed under my breath. I was relieved you couldn’t hear me breath. I didn’t want you to turn around. Your eyes make me fall to me knees. Your words make me lose sight of sound. When I refuse to believe anything I see, music is all I have. I couldn’t afford to be without you. So I stayed completely still. I breathed into your neck. You started to feel an idea but you couldn’t put your finger on it. There was a big red sign beside you on the wall, it said ‘keep your filthy paws of anything you want to feel. It’s against the law. It’s against policy to be so wild child. Mind your manners or we’ll through you outside. Be careful with those thoughts, its too cold to last the night out there. You might die.’ It was a lengthy sign, but it did the trick. Scared you to death. You stood behind the line. You kept your hands to yourself. You cried. You got scared all the time. I couldn’t take another second of it, so I put my whole life on the line you dared not cross and I died. Just to show you it was worth the risk. Just to show you mortality and a wish are the exact same thing. Art. But I was immortal so whole plan went to shit. I took a step forward. Then another. One more step and my lips would be slipping down your neck. I wrapped my arms around your waist and whispered in your ear. I assumed you were still listening. Or I was too bold to care. ‘Hi. I have an idea. I know, fear has its boundaries. Whatever. I don’t care. We shouldn’t make ourselves so accessible to the rest, keeps us locked into a dangerous idea if you ask me, the idea of being someone to be seen. You’re not asking, I know. But I have an idea anyway. I think you should give it all away. Every single thing you think you own. I think you should take a good pair of boots and a warm coat. Leave the phone. Break it! Leave it all, every social construction, every moment captured, every idea of losing things that were never yours to carry. Take something colorful so I can spot you in a crowd of a million. And come for me. There’s this library that I know. Its full of books on the subject of anarchy, its all make believe. It’s a lovely place to lose the concept of time. I walk there everyday. It lies behind my own voice. The Crystal Palace will fall before the feet of the kids reading in the corner of it, the kids writing for each other. Meet me here. I think you might love me. I mean, I think you might love it. Bring an umbrella, its been pouring for days. Or just tell me to piss off. Go my own way. Come another day, maybe. Who knows! Either way, I’ll say for the millionth and the second to last time, I’m always one good reach away. I don’t think twice when it comes to coming for you. I can’t have it any other way. Only my own, only you.’ You don’t move. You stop breathing. I get scared but I don’t let go. You start being breathed by yourself. The sound of your voice calms me, even though you’re not saying a single thing. Bells start ringing. You think of a girl in the tower. I think of marrying you. You think I have no respect for the notion. I think the irony of wanting only you is too funny to make a joke out of. You put your hands over mine. I start weeping. I kiss you. You try to turn around but I tighten my grip. I cannot bear to see your face. I cannot carry the weight of being banished. It makes me want to run away. Curl up in the corner and stay out of spite. But out of sight all the same because I’m ashamed. When I let the shame go I am seen. I remember I present myself as the beggar. I remember begging. I remember you. I stop crying and speak, ‘Tag! You’re it. Catch me my love. I’m yours for the taking. All you have to do is move. Move!’ You spin around as fast as you can. I run away before you have time to see my face. I’ve aged. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. I call it art.