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April 22, 2021

Letter of longing {Letters before Bali}

Photo by Matheus Bertelli on Pexels.

As you may know, the portuguese language has it’s special word for longingsaudade.

Saudade is a feeling of longing, melancholy, desire, and nostalgia that is characteristic of the Brazilian or Portuguese temperament. It describes a deep emotional state; a yearning for a happiness that has passed, or perhaps never even existed. It carries with it a touch of melancholy, yet in that wistfulness there is love as well. One thing is certain: the object or person of that saudade does not inhabit the present space or time.”

We also have our romanian word for this feeling of longing – dor.

“DOR  is a Latin-origin word, but its present-day meaning is not the same as its etymon’s, dolus, which meant “pain” in Julius Caesar’s language.

Dor names the feeling you experience when you miss home, a person, a place, a time, a memory. In English, it would be best approximated by “longing” or “nostalgia”.”

Well, there is a profound and nuanced meaning for dor, as for saudade.
So that’s why it was a bit difficult for me to translate this letter into english, and this is the reason I wanted to make this short introduction and association with the portuguese language.

And you have to trust me that this letter sounds more poetic in romanian.

My dearest longing,

Today…I long.

I really, really miss you. And I miss myself, the one from the future.

I long.
for…
a meeting with the self;
tears of happiness;
retrieval;
forgetting;

forgiving;

change;
quietness;
so much quietness.

I long.
for…
some places I haven’t seen, but I feel like I’m already part of them;
people I haven’t met, but somehow I already know them;
moments that I have not yet experienced, but I anticipate them as magical, soothing, liberating;
colorful dishes that I have not yet tasted, but whose aroma I can feel in my mouth;
a music I didn’t feel, but still it somehow vibrates in me;
a dance that I did not dance, but whose movements I learned a long time ago.

I have a burning longing for words that I have not written, but which are still silently waiting to be placed on paper, on screens, on souls;

I long…

for an air that I did not breathe, but which already suffocates me with happiness and emotion;
for an ocean that I did not touch, but whose big waves I see when I close my eyes.

And all these longings are calling me, saddening me, break me, are crying for me of longing in their turn.

I long so much.
S.

Beginning of October 2020, Letter No. 3

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