Remembering Caraz Cesui with Anaiss Nomara
Did it
happen to you that someone had a huge impact on you with you not really
acknowledging it? And when they were gone from your life, you missed them until
also that feeling disappeared and then the time passed and you have forgotten
everything until one day something small, ridiculous triggers those feelings
back in your head and brings that person back in your life.
For
about a year now, I remembered him…“the man with the eyes of the abyss”. That’s
how I used to call him. And the spark was not coming from a madeleine
displaying his eyes, ha ha ha or simply me looking at those eyes, but something
he had written. Do you know how many times I had seen those eyes after that
period and I haven’t thought of them as abyss? I tried very hard to remember
why I used to call him that and what made me stop…because I knew I was never
really in love with him and he was not even a close friend. There was something
mysterious that was hidden in the boxes of memories of my head, like a story, a
fantastic story from a different world. The other day I remembered it again
accidentally listening to a song that he also liked. The man with the eyes of the
abyss came back for a second knocking at the doors of my soul, leaving a
strange heartbeat behind before disappearing into oblivion again. I had to find
out who was that man and what he had represented in my life back then.
And
believe me, I’ve laughed very hard when I found out from an old notebook
containing messages dedicated to him. The man with the eyes of the abyss, not
my ex, not my friend, a stranger,… my muse. Yap. You guys, have girls for
muses, why can’t we girls have guys? Well, as crazy as it seemed I had a half
notebook full of written things dedicated to him, not out of love, well simply
because he was my inspiration. It was enough to see him and my mind drifted
away opening into a different universe where he was the king of fantasy. Love?
I wasn’t actually fantasizing about my love and his, but I still called it
love, because I was fascinated by his being, by his soul.
And all I wanted was
his soul. That desire was expressed actually quite poetically at the end of
some of the verses or short stories. Now, that made me laugh again so hard that
this morning I wanted to ask him if someone before has requested his soul. This
sounds so malefic. It still amuses me. “Gimme, your soul! Right now!” Oh, and I
also had to stare at his picture for about five minutes to find the abyss that
I kept talking about. With a little effort…and a little help from a mysterious girl, I
forgot about, Anaiss…let’s see who was or is the man with the eyes of the abyss.
It was
during university years and three quarters of the female race had a crush on
this tall guy from the Literature department with curly light brown hair and celestial
blue eyes, a sensual full mouth, high cheek bones and a romantic air, like
Byron and of course, a poet. I still make a face of aversion that after all
this time I remember his traits or almost and I try to display them as
lyrically as they were seen. What can I say, a beauty? No matter how ironic,
I’m trying to be, I have to recognize, he was quite beautiful, he just didn’t
appeal to my senses in any way. My friends were hysterical when he was passing
by, the female race was falling at his knees and they thronged to see him. I
was disgusted. My friends dragged me to the hallway because the beauty king was
passing by and they were trying to convince me of his qualities. And while I
was barely fitting in a doorway, totally bored and listening to their rattle, I
saw him – the man with the eyes of the abyss. A smile appeared on my face as if
I had discovered the mystery of the world.
Those eyes were infinite in
blackness, immeasurable, the entire universe fitting in those black eyes, a
profound pit, a hole with no bottom, in space and time. I thought for a moment
that he smiled back to me, but I probably imagined it or I was wrong, with all
that femininity display around me.
Those eyes were infinite in
blackness, immeasurable, the entire universe fitting in those black eyes, a
profound pit, a hole with no bottom, in space and time. I thought for a moment
that he smiled back to me, but I probably imagined it or I was wrong, with all
that femininity display around me.
“His
friend is totally cool,” I mumbled to my friends. “Poet? Look at those black eyes…”
“His
friend is our colleague, you idiot!” one of my friends replied to me ignoring
the rest of my comment.
Yap, I
must have looked like an idiot not to recognize one of my colleagues, but that
was the moment when I actually first acknowledged him. And I don’t know if it
was his white shirt, and his oily raven hair, or his face, with pretty normal
traits, but those eyes touched something so frail in my soul, that I couldn’t
stop wondering about them.
Of
course, my friends finding out about my new interest, started to give me inputs
about him: who he was, what he did, what school he was coming from etc. etc. But
I didn’t care, all I wanted was to see his eyes and find out what it was beyond
those eyes, what was behind that gate in a different universe. And each time I
saw him after that, I discovered a different universe. I was already writing
about the countless worlds behind those eyes. I was fascinated, not by the man,
but by what he could have been.
One
day, when we found out that my cousin had been their classmate, my friends
asked him so many questions about the two men that my head hurt. I forgot
instantly almost everything I was told. When we were left alone, my cousin
looked me in the eyes and asked me the question that I refused to ask myself.
“So,
you like him, ah?”
“Like?”
the words paused on my lips for long and I didn’t know what to reply. “I don’t
know if I can say that I like him…” I replied uncertain. And because I was
pounding too long, my cousin continued.
“I
don’t want to disappoint you, but I don’t think he is your type and clearly you
are not his type.”
And
then it clicked.
“No,”
I jumped. “I don’t like him. I don’t like him in that way. I don’t know him to
like him. I actually don’t care,” I replied laughing. “I just think he is a
smart guy that I would like to know a little better or maybe not...I don’t
know. I am not interested in him as a man. Leave it... it’s not what you think
it is.”
And
that where it was left and everybody else decided to leave me alone, with my
weird single sided platonic love, if it could be even named that, maybe better
phantasmagoric love.
I
didn’t care who he was in reality, but the man with the eyes of the abyss was
everything else in the universe that I was seeing behind his eyes. He was an
immortal wall of time in the building of space, and one little window wanted to
be protected, but he couldn’t protect only her from the bad weather, because he
was too busy with all the other windows. He had become shriveled and the little
window felt pity for him because they were both dirty and forgotten by the
human race. In a poem Cleopatra was mourning his death and in another he was
the light of the stars in a pitch black night with no name. He was the absence
of time and the time itself. He had built himself from the sand of time grain
by grain, he had felt love and hate and pain, he had felt joy and shame, he
forgave and was forgotten, he blanked out his infinite past choosing to live a
simple human life and with each missed memory a grain was dropping from his
body. The infinite time was dying unconsciously, forgetting who he was. With
each written line, I was reminding him indirectly,
knowing that he would never discover that I knew his secret. He was not human,
not in my mind…he was the immortal time, the man with the eyes of the abyss.
One
day someone had mistaken my rhymes for love, again. In my try to defend myself,
I ceased to write, about the “beautiful child with infinite
eyes” and I only seen him for what he was in other people's eyes, a merely human being, one of my classmates. But,
somewhere in my heart remained that feeling that somewhere in my life, I’ve
met, the time itself.
