The English translation into the sentence what’s wrong, lovy wasn’t the correct representation of the reality, because it was more defined in an extreme, backed into the corner of ‘wrong’, opposite to the other side of right as if I found myself in a wrestling match (which also made us wonder why nosheep ever asks what’s right, lovy, as if wrong is the deviation of some inherent knowledge of what it means to be human, but luckily we have the linguistic freedom to not live in between brackets). Or short: It wasn’t what the original language meant to say. Can we borrow from Hebrew where they say ma-zeh, having more of an open retorism, where the person in front of you is not sure what he sees written in the caverns on your face and just asks you: Tell me what it is that I see in plain view, I can’t read it. They even called Gods Bread from heaven ‘what-is-it’, or in better Hebrew pronounced as ma-nah.

What is it that I see, lovy. I believe there are but very few people who actually have this gift of approaching me more near this way. God is one of them, my dad and my boyfriend being two others. My dad doesnt even have to ask the question. I can see in his face that he notices something about me. It’s in the reflection of his silence that I discover that something actually is disturbing me inside. It’s in his eyes that I find I am still uncomfortable to know that he also sees I noticed him and now we’re both stuck in knowing, but both trying to pretend not to. My boyfriend asks it before I can see it in his face. In between these two men in time, one being with me from the beginning of my time, one being with me to the end of it, I feel this weird oscillation of being okay with disturbance, not forced to talk about it, and I discovering that talking about it even reliefs the disturbance, even though it is continuously covered (and governed) by the thought that when I do show my true colors, there is no future for me any more.

I think God represents both of these extremes. In His presence it’s okay to not talk about it. In His presence it’s okay to talk about it. I get the impression that He lets me choose, after He first made me feel at ease with both possibilities. I start to exist between these two options. There needs to be a beginning and an end to a line in order for it to be visible to the eye. That is the line that draws an invisible circle around my heart where the four letters of the word safe cover every corner of it, whispered, so that it’s not the language that fills me, but the breath with which the word comes forth. Try it. Whisper the word safe, and then see where your breath takes it.