In the mood for love

Suddenly he remembered. It must have been the end of the year 2000. It was late in the afternoon, but already pitch black outside, the tall street lamps with their pale yellowish scant light were illuminating dimly. He remembered the foggy weather and the humidity piercing through his bones as they were walking arm in arm at the uneven cobblestone pavement with the sound of her heels creating a dull echo as it was reflecting to the surrounding buildings. They’ve just left the theater Urania a few steps behind them, Wong Kar Wai’s “In the mood for love” was showing back then…He remembered the silence while they both stared simultaneously at the film’s sign with its large black letters on a white neon background before they kept going their way… A couple of minutes later, just before reaching the city’s big tower clock which never missed to remind them their steady subtle decline, she asked him:

- “Shall we go and watch it? R. told me it’s a dream.”

- “I don’t know, I’m not in the mood for Chinese cinema” he answered, rather absent-minded, his thoughts racing elsewhere

It was left at this, in any way their cinephilia hadn’t reached the dimensions of a ritual just yet… They continued their evening walk towards Afium, their beloved cellar, sitting and drinking boiled wine with cinnamon, feel the warming breaths, as his warm fingertips from touching the hot cup barely came into contact with her long attractive proud neck…

Five years later, under the same winter weather, but at different coordinates, with longitudes and latitudes of this world dissonant as if pathologically drunk, it finds them in complete confusion, communication seeming impossible, cohabitation turning unbearable.

Walking outside the Amherst Theater, like two negatively charged atoms driving away each other, they unwittingly come across the poster of “2046”, Kar Wai's new film.

Somehow they both softened.

- “Are we gonna watch it together?”

- “I promise.”

A few days later, a sudden death. The only gift her father ever made to her. His death as an excuse of a foretold separation…

Useless exchange of letters follows:

- ....

- “I haven’t seen 2046 yet. I’ll wait for you.”

- “There’s no need…”

Two years later, under the same winter weather, after the arrival of the first snow, he observes the white flakes becoming eventually an ugly mud, like it always happens. Watching things from a different angle, with the bells of the church’s clock across not only signifying our subtle waning through life but also the cure from a past that has long gone without return, he feels the need to be exposed to “the mood for love” that awaits for him stoically for some time already, circles are supposed to close, not all of them are vicious, as it is assumed.

“A memory, is it something you have, or something you lost?”

In the mood for love, by Wong Kar Wai.

But... in reality, only the last paragraph proved to be fictional.
He actually never stopped loving her.
One cannot find cure from his only true Love, however sentimental this may sound…