lala {avox} cb, fin

I choose to remember the most perfect memory of Hendrix. It makes me think of the person he should have been, would still be if it had not been for 652. His personality was something so beautiful and heartwarming, I don't ever want to forget it. It is like how they play the films to the tributes, I can replay it anytime I want. We are lying beneath the stars and are talking about the future. Talking about how we're going to have five children in total, three called Matilda, Giovani and Robel with two non-identical twins called Juno and Juni. He tells me that they would have my white hair, his pointed chin, my sharp little eyes and his pudgy cheeks. He promises to be the best father and I tell him I'm not sure how good of a mother I would be because I'm a scatterbrain and struggle to say no, but he assures me that we can and will do it together, no matter how easy or hard. And we lose ourselves, thinking the night away, holding each other's hearts in our hands. He holds me close, and the stars begin to fade. He sings a lullaby, and I fall asleep so easily.

It was all perfect. I should have known that things would go to shit eventually. Wandering, in love with our freedom, but not even love could stop them from taking Hendrix, and them all, away from me. I didn't see it, I didn't let myself, but I heard it, I felt it—and it felt so wrong.

I have no idea if Hendrix, if any of them are still alive. I always think about it. 651 days we were free, together. 652 and everything changed. They took him, and a few days later, they took my tongue.