I have once stepped into the old room of hers, after her long left. It was too obvious that she had never remembered me, or even to come back the only place she said was comfortable enough for her to sleep.

All the furniture, the wooden cabinets, the Victorian dresser, and the blanket of lavender fragrance, had eventually coverd with a layer of rat grey cinder.

Only a piece of silver work of a Christian cross was still able to see its original colour.

I had supposed to clean them, as well to sweep those memories of her away. Just for not remembering the love, the emotions, that tragedy that had almost suffocated me.

I think that was the reason of me changing my name as I finally settled in Japan.

The name I asked those fellows to translate is a name of clarity, as well as sequence,my expectations of myself to wipe away the grey that still occupy my consciousness, and get back to normal.

I had deserted the name of my religion, the birth gift my parents gave me. If it was to be a new start, I think it is fine for not having those burdens.

Christian. I never knew what character did it played in this romance. But this name, eventually forgotten by the people around me. I can hardly remember the last time anyone had called me by the name.

I think that was the thing that connects us the most—the religion of Christianity. It is somehow like Adam and Eva in the testaments.

The blood of human beings giving us a connection no longer the exact same, but gave us the right to love; the blood of living souls to have the passion between each other.

But as her body lies in the deep abyss of death, the last inspiration she takes and left forever, the connection no longer exists. The origin of all affection dissolve with her torso.

I don't know if this count as betrayal or something else.

The only thing I know is that many things already fell apart

*

Okay, I hate the lineation systems of Plurk.

Me,too.