2016-11-17

LOVELETTER TO A SNOWMAN

My beloved snowman,

Often, we have a choice between illusion and truth. One is just a blink from the other. Sometimes, I would love to leave my eyes completely open. But without blinking, I cannot manage to do it for too long. Yet keeping them closed does not help me either. Then, I live as if I am in one of those dreams in which I think I am awake, but I simply cannot get my eyes open. It is all in vain. I try to grope my way forward, searching for the way, hearing my surroundings, wanting to participate in it, wanting to see it… but my eyes simply do not want to see. It’s a huge, unreal, and motionless prison in darkness.

Finally, only steady blinking remains. Enter the reality, leave the illusion behind, and go back into the illusion. An airy swinging, an ‘ooh’ and an ‘aah’, a here and a there. At the end of the day, quite tired from blinking, I glide back again, but this time into another kind of illusion.

How long do you think you can bear to look into my eyes without blinking, my beloved illusion? Not very long, I think, because pretty soon you will find the way through my eyes into my soul. There, you will lose yourself, and thus quickly forget the control over your eyelid movement.

So, I win, as I always do, because I can blow soap bubbles and also burst them. Because you are nothing more than a snowman, built of three gigantic balls of snow which melt when the sun shines upon you, or you just roll down the steep slope when I kick and brace myself against it with all my strength. Wonderful! You can change your density, from snow to water; you can change your size, because snowballs get bigger when they roll down the slope. But when they finally end up in the stream, unfortunately they have to change their density again, and you will be easily washed away from the river of life. I have won again. I will certainly not search for your molecules in the many rivers of the world.

Maybe I will cry for you, as you were always so beautiful. You could transform your figure into infinitely shimmering shapes. You shone and twinkled, read my wishes from my lips, and comforted me when I put all my hope in you. But all this was only a part of you. Sunrays got caught in your robe of snow, and were refracted in thousands of sparkling ice crystals. They warmed me up, but they also dazzled me. They loved me, but they also changed me. After all, in the end, you are only a snowman, without warmth, without life. Lifeless and rigid, like a grey pebble. Grey eyes in which a soul will never be reflected.

And yet, yours,
always loving yours.

REBEKKA SARAH LÖFFLER