Forty Years

Today is an important local holiday. Mozambique celebrates 40 years of independence. It sounds like this country is reaching its maturity, yet the signs are worrying.

The country is not well and me neither. I am troubled by a sensation that keeps me restless and incapable of enjoying whatever I should be enjoying right now. I wrote recently about having someone that is not capable of fuelling my feelings. My love is always potential and conditional. He behaves like I am a sure thing. He is worried with his own problems, ignoring the way I feel.

In consequence, we are together and separated. It’s sad because we both know that we didn’t have the opportunity to be together the way we want it. I just hope this is only a bad phase, because I was almost sure he was the one for me. As in most cases, I could pretend that everything is fine. It’s not that I don’t try. Unlike the title of the old song, I am a bad pretender.

I was working today when I read these two lines: “I have spread my dreams under your feet/ Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.” All I could say has already been said by WB Yeats.

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