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October, 22nd. It was a rainy evening, Pauline made a cup of Jasmine tea and turned on ‘Real Love’. Well, it is the right time for Christmas movies, warm socks, and warming drinks. She settled back on the large cream-colored sofa, curled up her summer-tanned legs under her, and opened ‘Where the Crawdads sing’. It was a tough week, and all she wanted to do at the end of it was to relax and be on her own. Her brain could not concentrate on the lines of the twentieth chapter of the book, so she decided to switch to the film, which she had already seen a hundred times.

When you live alone, it is easier for you to immerse yourself in your own thoughts and hear your inner voice. Pauline often goes to the menu of her iPhone, opens ‘Notes’ and writes down her thoughts in sketches. Such notes have piled up so much that you can publish a whole collection.

- Someday... - she thought. The girl goes to the bathroom, turns on The xx ‘Shelter’, pulls off a silk negligée and enjoys a hot bath with lavender. A relaxed consciousness and a feeling of lightness, weightlessness after being released from all the worries inside allows you to hear what you have been thinking about for so long or what you are trying to completely drown out and forget.

- ‘Notes’, ‘New note’, – Pauline starts typing a text, - We all have a huge, all-encompassing warm feeling in the depths of our souls and it is... Faith. Are you familiar with the feeling when you inhale fresh air on a jog or the perfume of your lover and you are feeling how every cell of the lungs in your diaphragm is being filled with oxygen, taking your breath away? So, this is what Faith is to me. Probably, it is impossible to teach this, you get to it yourself. Faith makes us resilient. Faith gives us strength and does not allow us to deviate from the path. This is what leads us to Love, - born in the head of the brunette.

- Perhaps these thoughts, expressed in the subsequent lines, are the most intimate thing that I have ever had. Very often I find myself thinking that I am a desperate romantic. This sentimental side of my soul is strong, but at the same time it is so vulnerable. Sometimes I think the men I talked to took it as a weakness, but I am not afraid of being myself and upfront. I am not afraid to voice my feelings and dreams. My sincerity is my strength, – Pauline keeps writing the note.

When your relationship status is ‘single’, having a glass of white semi-dry and talking to your friend about the past week full of work, you’re complaining how tired you are of it, then you’re planning a trip to Barcelona, and from there to Paris; you’re dreaming of how you will drink ‘Le Rosé’ on the Champs-Elysees or in the park near the Eiffel Tower and how you will eat crunchy croissants for breakfast... And all these conversations usually end up saying ‘Thanks God you’re no longer speaking to him’ and ‘So, when will I find the right one?’. Do all roads lead to Rome? All roads lead to Love!

- Long have I been thinking of why I have been single for more than 3,5 years , analyzing a large flow of ‘trolley – men’, whom I talked to, - she writes, - and they, passing by, made me stronger and wiser. If it hadn’t been for them, I wouldn’t know what I want, I wouldn't know that I like gentlemen, I like a man who is industrious and ambitious at work, but is quite discreet and well-mannered with the girl. I wouldn’t have known that when I meet ‘the right one’ it’s his gaze that immediately sinks into my mind, soul and heart; I would not have known that it’s important for me to see how much a man loves his family, because this is a very revealing trait. I wouldn’t know that when a man doesn’t stand still and always moves on and discovers something new (and I'm not about travelling now), this is the very thing that motivates me and makes me realize that I should always support and stand for him. I wouldn’t know he loves sunsets and countryside views as much as I do, and this is something worth living for, - the girl finishes her note, locks the screen and puts the phone aside.

All of her notes are, of course, autobiographical because it's easier to write about what you've been going through and what you’ve been feeling. You just set your thoughts free and do not hold them, because feelings are like the bird that flies out of your heart, flapping its wings, and soars up until it reaches its destination. Don’t be afraid to be sincere and upfront with your very “bird”, and don’t be afraid to think out loud.

Smile. Flash your eyes. Gaze ardently at you. Fall in love. Run to the sun. Grab it at dusk. Squeeze our hands. Spark. Kiss. Breathe. Live. Be with you. Be behind you. Be in love with You. Love you. Love us.

- You know, I have never ever shared a raspberry-peach sunset with anyone before, and it's not a sea sunset, no, because the sea sunset has been already too vulgarized by people and has lost the virginity of its meaning; I mean a sunset somewhere by the lake, or on the hills, or at Seven Sisters, or just at home, wrapped in each other's tenderness and I’m snuggling into your white or gray T-shirt. And for some reason I want to share this feeling with you, to touch you silently with words. My head is on your left shoulder, and you... you just wrap your strong arms around me, kiss my ear or my forehead, and we talk about everything and nothing, and this is the real sex.

- You know, this is how I imagined you: your neat bristle and dimples when you smile. Ah, you drive me crazy with your smile, with your snow-white, warm smile that sets fire in me. So do your eyes. Brown, small eyes. Thick dark hair. You and I are quite alike and that's why we look so harmonious together. You love cycling and views, and even here the stars collide. We’re romantics. Perhaps a little bit but still romantics. We can talk about poetry and books. I keep ‘The Chimp Paradox’ on the shelf as it was you who recommended it to me, remember? It gives me the creeps when you record a voice message saying "Good morning" or send me a video of you walking home from work and getting in your car, letting me know to heat dinner as you’re coming home, - writing Pauline.

- You know, somewhere deep inside my mind, at the neuron level, this is how I exactly imagined your parents. I had a feeling that I would look like your mother, because she is brunette; I had a feeling that your dad would definitely smile when our child (son? or daddy's daughter?) will play with his grey hair. And we also have a dog, a Labrador, smart and playful, it usually goes fishing and hunting with you, because you do love it. Your house... You want to step in and feel the warmth not only of the walls, but also of its owner; light shades, minimalistic design, combined with a large wooden table in the dining room. You have a good taste, I have to say. I want to sit with you by the fireplace in the living room and warm my hands on a cup of hot tea, you know? Because you don't drink tea with just anyone.

- You know, your look is enough for me. You fill me with the purest and warmest feelings, and I just breathe them in and don't want to breathe them out. You make me vivacious. I don't know how you smell yet (by the way, what perfume do you wear?) and what mark you'll leave on my slightly tanned skin, but damn, I love this little mystery. That's what keeps you interested, you know? To open up your soul step by step and learn about you, taking small bites and touching every single piece of your skin. Get to know your taste.

- You know, I do believe in you, even though I know you a little, and that's the paradox. And likewise, I do want to believe in you every day, every minute and the entire life. How much the future holds for us we can only imagine, because how many sunrises and sunsets that are not seen yet, and how many beaches are not passed barefoot!

- You know, everyone I have talked to, they were just passing by. They were just there for me to see what I needed. Imagine, one of them canceled a date because of the rain! Apparently, he didn’t understand that it’s a small piece of happiness for me to walk and kiss in the rain, feeling its drops on my skin. But only you know. And you grasp the way how I see this world and yes, I want you to smile now, just like me.

Oh, it seems I got off the track. So, you know, I’ve got a feeling that I was preserved from something unnecessary. There were different men on my way to you, but I was told by someone from the heavens: "Here is a man, please, look at him from a distance and don’t allow to approach too close." It would have been possible to reach a climax of the plot and then there would have been a denouement of the story, if I hadn’t been that careful and accurate, but I went ahead, keeping faith and hoarding their tenderness and warmth inside.

I just knew you would come like the fire into my frozen hands.

- You know, I am grateful to all those who passed by, to those whom I was with, because it was they who revealed to me the sides and qualities of ‘the right one’, that is yours. They don't think about it themselves, they did a good job! But I will tell you one more prominent thing: what a contribution they made not even for me, but for you, for the one who is eventually with me. After all, they were the ones who revealed me, taught me how to communicate, build relationships, kiss, have sex, but not make love (there must be something you can teach me, right?). Eventually, today's ‘me’ was made from the past experiences, people and past relationships. Each person has their own unique story, and thanks to this we are where we are now.

- You know, I want to write to you in the morning, when it's 8 a.m. Moscow time and it’s 6 a.m. in London: "Hi. Are you sleeping?” I know you're sitting there in a white T-shirt that looks so sexy on your slightly brown skin, working on a MacBook and eating a bowl of oatmeal with honey and berries as you like.

- You know, I was like passing by houses in an unfamiliar neighbourhood: I was walking my own way, I met different people on it and some of them were not bad themselves. But you know, I didn't want to step into their house, which is on the left side of my chest. I wanted to stand outside, not opening the door and that is all. Having had a nice chat, I was telling them with a smile: "Thanks, but sorry, I have to go" and I kept on going. Why? Because it is cold in there and it does not warm there, because I have more of this heat, and there, in those brick houses, there are cold radiators, cold windows and walls, not because of the lack of central heating, but because there is no light in the person who lives there.

But I want to step into your home. And stay.


Pauline Stateva is an aspiring writer. The genres she writes in include romance, novels and short essays. Having worked as a journalist, she knows how to make a text touching for a reader. Pauline's works are sometimes autobiographical, basing on her personal life experience. Being interested in people's views and psychology, she communicates with different people to make her stories more vivid, heart-wrenching and recognizable for every reader. 


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