Sweet Eden, that I may never taste it, yet it mocks me as I lay silent. Following the embers of this life, travel that I may, as far as conceivable, the corners of this earth has nothing to bear its fathom. The balance of this earth has no room for the squandering of beauty, or happiness or freedom. For this earth walks hand in hand with life, and surely life is nothing more than the absence of death. Yet this sweet embrace has traveled and reach me on this ethereal plane, that I may thought lucky, that I may die and my tale my have existed, that I visited this place on such and such a date, and nobody will ever know. Nobody will know except for this place, and those who were at this place. For you, Hala, were at this place, but not even you know. You’re out there somewhere, not you but her, and she waits for me. Lest I find her one day. Perhaps the truth will exist only in these pages, perhaps I may never see her again. The following is to my recollection.

	This place is distant, the exact details entailing this place are supernatural and may never be understood, all I can do is tell them as I remember, as they allowed me to see. This building was an exposure to a forest, a meadow, even, but there is no sunlight in this meadow. It rains eternally in this place, yet the ground is only moist. A forest, of beautiful oak trees, draped in grey as is the sky, trapped eternally at the time of the evening. This building of glass, yet the inside bears many walls. 

	I begin in a theatre. This theatre is dark, the walls draped in black fabric, yet the stage positioned thusly that you might hear even a whisper on stage. I cannot recall the details entailing the play yet I remember the cast was rather vast. There was no background to the stage, yet you could see each scene vividly. The walls are painted black and a dark cement, bearing sound heavily. As the play concludes, the actors seem to disappear from the stage. He’s quite certain they left, but he just didn’t see them leave. He is rather pleased with the play but has no recollection of writing it, nor of what the play was about nor of if the audience even enjoyed the play. The lights turn on and are no longer dimmed, the stage crew is gone, yet the audience remains, the noise of conversation raises and it is clear that he is free to leave.  The room is still rather dim as the rain is pouring and the faint sound of the tapping against the windows can be heard. He would walk around, recollecting the clothes of the people, yet not a single face to match this memory. The numbers of people have thinned but a few still remain, walking oft and fro. Before he may realize that he has no place to go aside from to the stage, he sees her. The only face that he may recognize, the only face that looks at him. He wasn’t sure if she was there during the entirety of the play but the fact remains that she was there. She seemed alive, he himself didn’t feel as though he was there, or if he belonged there, but she seemed to and as he saw her, he did as well, in an all-of-a-sudden manner.

	She’s wearing a white shirt and dark pants, she’s aged, and as he just noticed, so has he. She has a smirk on her face, her cheeks extended, as he remembered her last. Much time has passed since he last saw her, although he can’t remember the last time he did. It felt as though she was a stranger to whom she used to be, and the person that he was smirking to was someone he knew long ago, someone who wasn’t there anymore, for it was not until that moment that he felt as though he was really there. He walks to her and the first attributes he notices is her, nails, painted black, as they were when he first saw her. He immediately noticed her silky hair, transcending among her shoulders, waving down past them, long as he remembered her. It was an awe-struck that she wasn’t wet, nor was her hair. Her shirt was plain white and was attuned well to her body, slung well and not of any sort of brand or company, just a plain white shirt, reaped of cattlebray, the thought of where it may have come from scared him, for he had not seen the likes of it before. Her pants were dark, not jeans of any sort, just simple plants, they seemed hand-made yet suited her well and seemed natural, as though he expected them of her. The face was pale, and it comforted him. Much time had passed since they had spoken last, and he wasn’t sure how she heard news of his play, yet she was there and he didn’t question it. She addressed him Sy, and his grin extended further at this notion, not having been called so for countless ages. Years, perhaps centuries and perhaps generations passed since he last saw her, yet it felt quite natural that she was there, and noone else. He didn’t want to contemplate nor deny, he just wanted to walk, for he knew, he wasn’t meant to be here, and would be parting with this world soon. 

	They conversed over timeless events that entailed of the prior years, when they used to be closer and kept in close touch. She described to him days of walks through forests, near ponds and of rainy days, of which, he had no recollection and yet he was saddened, for she had been there, with him and he had been somewhere else, regret filled his heart and made it heavy among her words. His mind beckoned her further, each word laced with a great feel of ecstasy than the last. He didn’t remember any of those days, yet he knew they occurred, as he was not meant to be there he felt as though he had missed all the great events she spoke of. As if he was somewhere else while they were happening. At most, he remembered the events, but didn’t remember being there, unsure of what he saw was a reality or madness, but even the latter would suffice for she was there with him, walking still. The hallway was great, the right end featured expansive aged windows, the clearing ended only 100 metres in the distance and the forests continued for as far as anyone could see, surely he was not where he thought he was. None of the windows were open yet he could feel a breeze and he enjoyed the fact that it pushed her hair against his face occasionally, it felt more real than the ground beneath him. Each step they took down that hallway, he knew the time was ending and it would soon take him away. The hallway was large, wide and dark, yet there were windows surrounding them, revealing the forest and the rain. As his glance would sway to the endless lines of trees, he was contemplating how he got there, or if really was there, but she stole away for a moment, to a nearby door, and he began thinking the worst.

	She was looking at him, her back to the door and already he felt alone. He saw the door and the background but it was all a blur, a dark sway, and he knew that as she left she would enter into an abyss, one that he could not follow her into, for she would not be the same on the other end. All of a sudden he became fearful, this moment, with her, it was so fragile, so fragile that he held on to this reality with great conviction, for he knew, anything more than a whisper, and it could all be gone in a second. He burned. This feeling was rather familiar to him, this feeling of loneliness. She spoke to him rather vividly.

 “You’re here only for a time and already I’m leaving, so will you. This place alone remains.” 

He responds “We’ve never met before, and you’re leaving me, to bear witness to a past that I never lived. Stay here with me”

She returns “I remain within you, timelessly, you will forget me, but I may not forget, for me this ends”

	She turns and walks to the door, pushing it open, he continues hurriedly and reaches the door but proceeds no further. The cold of the rain is pressed on his face, a few drizzles fall on him, but she’s already in the midst of the distance. He accepts that she must leave, it seems as though it is above his power. As she leaves, her voice remains, with that line that he may never forget.

The worst punishment is not among those in which we suffered the harshest, or when we were most humiliated. But of the ones that never happened. Make sure this happens.

He turns slowly and closed the door behind him. Suddenly the hall is much shorter, and the entirety of the building is quiet. Silent even. He walks back to the theater in silence, each step less aware than the last. As he reaches the room, he notices that everyone has left. From the windows he can see the forest clearly, the rain just as clear. Sayed walks up the steps of the stage slowly and takes a seat among the parquet wood floors. He can see the corridors of the back of the stage, leading to the depths of the building yet he remains, seated among the floor. Slowly he fades from this timeless place, torn, in anguish as slowly he is removed from this beloved world, from all that he knew but would never witness nor had he ever borne witness to. Blinded from reality, longing to return, that he may be haunted of a place he never witnessed, and a friend he never had, in whose mighty company, he lives forever.