Created by the image of Aphrodite herself, The memory of her smile alone lights up the darkest side of my solitude. The delicate perfection of the lotus flower is of no match to her eyes, maybe only comparable to the flapping wings of a lonely hummingbird carefully approaching the first of the dew covered flowers in a sunny spring morning. Evoking her name is enough to bring back memories of the first jasmine and cherry blossoms aroma on a hot spring morning on the Alhambra gardens. There are no words to describe her absence, like a starless sky, a sunrise without the sound of the singing birds. Knowing that memories of her will populate my thoughts on the day to come is what turns my nights bearable. The possibility of meeting her in my dreams is my sleeping pill. Living my days one at a time, moved by the hope that one day we meet, hold each other and hear from her lips that at least once I actually wondered through her thoughts.