September 24, 2016
Tonight I thought I’ve finally finished that painting. Though I could not still name it. It worried me.
She was standing against the wall gazing at me as if she wished me to find something I knew but had forgotten.
An hour later, after he was idly looking through his old notes he unexpectedly found what only seemed to be an answer. It was a letter from a story he used to reread, rarely. Because he didn’t know whether he liked it a lot or he did not at all.
The hint was there, not in whole story but just in one paragraph. And she was there, saying now to him…123 years ago… –
September 25, 1893
“Today, we speak very quietly, almost inaudibly – so far we are from each other, indeed I exist only in you, and you’ve already forgotten me. Today, the meaning of word now for me, who is writing and whispering it, is entirely different than its meaning for whom, who is reading and quietly pronouncing it “now”. Now, after overcoming this huge time distance, after overcoming the eternity – even if it seems to be absurd – now I’m kissing you as before…”
I took a pen and jotted down in euphoria “Mademoiselle from September”.