What would the ruins of this city say if they could tell my stories? Would they say that time brought me to my knees, that I never belonged to anyone, that the memories we shared overwhelmed me? Would those who watch me from afar and wonder if I simply gave up be right?
I couldn't put it any other way: this city shattered me.
It has filled me, consumed me, left me on the curb of oblivion, along with hers, theirs, and nobody else's but everyone's. Because wherever I go, there is the shadow of that rainy and cold night in which I saw my guide, my friend, die. Since that day, my heart has not beaten, or in that autumn when I told you I couldn't be with you anymore. And the months, days, hours, and years I spent regretting not pursuing you. The incredible eyes of the woman who picked up the remaining pieces of my soul from the sewers and how impossible it was to stay with her. My parents and their nostalgia, the trips of my childhood, my grandfather and his aching knees, the tears on the ceiling of my room, the stale bread in the pantry, my grandmother's kitchen...
What would this city say if it knew it had taken away everything I loved?