Venny Soldan-Brofeldt

Artist, sculptor, and jewelry designer.

Svetlana

We crossed paths in an “Introduction to Pencil Drawing” class. I used to search your burdened features, such charm settled in the space between your brows. It was a Tuesday when you approached me with reluctant steps, your body tilting forwards, feet leaning behind. You had inquired about something, God knows if I can remember, but I recall that you laughed at something. I introduced myself with a hand shake that you would later confess how oddly quaint it was.

“Who shakes hands anymore?” you would exhale between giggles.

We slumped on narrow stools at the corner of the studio, and we would promptly recite our agonies and woes. You struggled in that class, but you didn’t have to be good at art. Do you recall the day you insisted on going to get a coffee during our 10-minute break? The cafe was far from the college, and I kept stuttering. Yet every second with you seemed worth the misfortune. I still remember your coffee order:

An iced matcha latte with almond milk (Lactose intolerance).

And you’d often stop by the College cafeteria to buy a beef patty, that was your favourite. If they were out, you’d ask for sweet potato fries. Occasionally, we’d swing by the bakery. I apologize for being so damaged. You had always encouraged me to share a meal with you, and I still remember how you’d whisper “I’m proud of you” whenever I was eating. You were one of the few who witnessed me during my most muffled. And I apologize for that. Do you recollect when we ditched class to sit by the fountain and communicate our horror? I recall us sharing such an alarming bond over inappropriate touch.

I celebrate when we first recounted our love for women. How the trees around us began to sway in festivity. Our bodies grew closer together, as we admitted, “I think I like you”

The world twisted us around. We both enjoyed each other’s company, but we were too defective for affection.

I apologize for not letting you touch me. I understand that it made you feel foreign to me. You hoped to mend a gap between my past and now, but I worried your presence.

I recognize it hurt you the day I admitted to you that you’re scaring me. I know that your intentions were all but loving. I apologize for pushing you away whenever you attempted to come closer.

And do you remember when you noticed me at the cafeteria eating plantain chips? You said that it was your first time seeing me eat. And you tried to be kind, tell me that you’re proud.

I don’t know how, but my mind was too damaged for that.

How about that time you invited me out for lunch and I refused to eat? You got so upset that day

“It’s a lunch, what do you mean you’re not going to eat!”

Eventually, you stopped asking me out

You’d buy me a fancy coffee with cream and sugar, and I’d purge it by noon. You even started adopting my toxic behaviour.

Iced coffee, gum, iced coffee, tea.

You were the first person to feel flustered around me. It was funny as I never saw myself as desirable.

You’d tell me that you were too scared to talk to me because I looked warm, and I’d laugh at the absurdity of these claims.

You were the first one to look at me and say

“I can’t get my eyes off you”

I remember when you asked me to save a stool and prepare a canvas next to mine. You were running late. You entered the class with such radiance that I swear to God my heart sank to the Earth. The professor gave you a sheep look. But you didn’t care. You were late because of body issues. You told me that you didn’t like how your frame seemed “flat” in these pants. I wish I could let you view your reflection in my eyes because nothing about you seemed “flat”. Nothing seemed “boring”,”monotone”. You were a symphony of emotions and ambition.

I was wearing a lace top, and you couldn’t take your eyes off me. We both saw misfortune in ourselves. But when we looked at each other, there was an indescribable desire. You wanted to become a professional photographer.

I love you as you’re the last of my kind. It is as if you speak the same language as I, yet no other is able. To be around you is like finally not being alone—as if all my life I’ve been isolated, in a windowless room, in a doorless room. Then suddenly you walk in as if strolling over a summer meadow. How is that you are so much more than sunshine? How is it you breathe life when no other can? Why is it you are my medicine? Who could admire me more than you? So, my love, know this—while I pant I am yours in mind, body and soul.

In a universe that is coded by divine hand, the only real thing is love—invisible and weightless as it is. That’s why it is only love that is the ultimate answer to healing souls and societies, and love that makes our moral compass function.

There existed an air in our interactions, not seen with the eyes, but experienced within the flavour of touch. I felt as though I could catch eternity’s mist with your smile. The hush of awe you would create, an undying sound. I had wished to hold your heart tenderly, as it bled to be loved with the kiss of union. I want this moment to last forever.

Soon, the silence between us grew so much that we couldn’t fill the gap. We had promised to stay in touch, but the words kept rewriting themselves in hesitation. Your name was woven on the walls of my mind, integrated into my very being. I hoped to cross paths with you, but you bare

You texted me after the August 4th explosion, it had been two years since we had last spoke. I was shocked to see your message, did I still exist in you? Even for a few seconds?

We kept messaging here and there

Within me, you are forever memorable.

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