The Spy Who Loved Me

Lena

Love always has more (faces) than people think…friendship, passion, devotion, support, understanding and many other good things could belong to love.

– Lena Ponomarenko

Update: It was nothing but a crush on a stranger. It was probably the flexibility of her gymnast limbs that set fire to my loins.

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The first time I saw Lena was from a distance. She sat about 5 metres and a few centimetres  away, and was a constant distraction. Her  eyes were set ablaze with joie de vivre, and her smile was completely unperturbed by gravity.

My heart always throws off a yellow-stained jealous spark when I come across people who can’t seem to stop smiling – especially if the raison d’être is not presently quantifiable. I ask myself – “why are they so happy? what pleasant memories are swirling around between their temples? what wouldn’t I give for such a smile right now…”.

Naturally, I do my own fair share of smiling – after all, my 2nd life motto is Hakuna Matata. However, everything about this Ukrainian secret agent stands out. If you’ve been following my blog you must have read about her brain power and beauty, so I’ll spare you the echoes.

Getting to know Lena helped me bring me down to Earth. My narcissism suddenly had no foundation, neither did my desire to build a wall around myself. What more does one need than someone who can inspire us to be better humans than we thought possible? Is there a more bona fide meaning of friendship than a person who can hold you up and set you straight effortlessly? Is she the one I’ve been searching for all this while…

A role model of mine once said “Love is three quarters curiosity”. He was known as Giacomo Casanova (YES!). As with all Soviet spies, there seems to be an air of intellectual and sensual  enigma about this young lady – an abyss of discoveries that has led me to perpetual yearning. I missed her the way one would miss the dawn at breakfast time, Christmas in January…the taste of wine once the bottle is emptied.

Indeed, I have always loved her type of accent…most certainly having a Russian half-sister (half-Russian sister?) must have been the cause, да? If any of you ever find a postcard that says Przystanek Tramwajowy Wawel, I would do just about anything to get it.

The morning after my father passed away, Lena was the first person I spoke to and just as with mea bona amica, Alex, the misery was washed away. That’s when I knew her warmth, her appeal, the way she set me ablaze was all I needed.

Unfortunately, it was all a dream. The balloon went pop and I floated back down to mortal Earth.

A word to you Loyal Reader – Never try to drown the butterflies. Be it but a dream and it may last just a while, however some moments are to be savoured like the first taste of crème brûlée.

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