sometimes i think of that quote from the illiad,
"you will never be lovelier than you are now. we will never be here again."
and i think of it without context, because although i own a copy of the illiad and although i want to read the song of achilles, i haven't. i have no idea what is going on or who achilles is speaking to or how he says it.
but in my blissful ignorance i imagine it's a whisper.
i imagine he says it in a hushed breath with such reverence and fervour and love that he has to stop and take a breath when he's finished.
i imagine he is laying in bed with patroclus, fingers tracing the lines on his arms and shoulders and neck and face while entwining his free hand with one of patroclus'.
i imagine they're looking into each others' eyes--even though the oil lamp is almost dry now and the only light they have is from the waning crescent that peeks through the linen drapes.
i imagine that, for a moment, they are together and they are whole and they are happy. that the tragedy i know they are destined for has not yet come to pass and they are content in each others arms for one more night.
i imagine i'll keep imagining all this even once i've read their stories. the memory of my imagination will stay intact in hopes of their love.
