Streetart Stories

Foto 09.09.16, 18 55 20Sprayer: Hazul
Writer: CfFaust

Porto’s Alma 12

Look at this beautiful old telephone box its wall on which I am leaning on right now. It really makes me an artifact of a museum, don’t you think? It is a little bit sad though, that people are not used to calling people inside this phone cell anymore. I would love to listen to phone conversations, hidden love stories or spy adventures or something of that sort. But people who use this cell mostly just lost or forgot their mobile phones, so the conversations are on the short side and boring. “Where are you, I am here, could you stop by, I will stop by”; that is about the gist of it so far. And yet, I am waiting for this romantic love story, were this amorous young poor boy with no mobile phone and no phone at home is trying to call his love repeatedly, leaving beautiful tales of love on his chosen one’s answering machine. The girl, would never pick up the phone, but would always listen to this young man’s beautiful voice, totally falling in love with the sound. Two month this romance continues like that. The young man’s stories would be so charming that I for one would fall for him, but he would never notice my existence. I tried to show him my presence but he was so engrossed in his own voice and stories that he never even looked at me. The more I felt in love with him, the more I was following his words, the more I was trying to get closer to him. But he always lowered his head and walked away from me, my home, and his home of love. Two months into the affair, my love got so sad about his silent girl at the end of the answering machine that cried and shouted into the receiver: “Meet me at this telephone box or I am never calling you again! Meet me or my love is going to die just like I am going to die! Meet me or you will regret it for the rest of your life! Meet me or you will never find love again!” These were really strong words and I started to worry about that poor guy. Would he kill himself for this unrequited love? Did the girl really receive his calls? What if the number was wrong? What if the girl had moved away? What, if I would be the only witness of the emotional breakdown of this poor man that completely lost his mind because of love? You want to know what happened to him? But isn’t it obvious? Of course he never ran into his love. How can you actually meet someone when your focus is restricted to the phone and your own voice? His love was always there, I was always right there, at the back of the telephone box, hiding, hoping for his attention, hoping to catch his interest, hoping to be with him forever. But he was in love with the unattainable. He was in love with himself being in love. He focused on distance and ignored what was close to him. He loved the concept of romance but he was neither honest nor brave enough to fight for love. He was just an empty verse of love.

1 Comment

  1. Christian Grosselfinger

    20. Juni 2017 at 21:47

    Ual! That was intense, makes me look inside of me, my mistakes in loving histories. 🙂

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