She reads. Not just the Facebook timeline or the captions on Instagram. She reads actual books. Novels, some set in contemporary urban or rural settings, some in timeless scenes of literary masterpieces. Art books with stunning images and then travel guides with tips on places to go and visit.
She likes museums, really. Not as a way to spend time when visiting cities, but she can name museums of different cities, citing the artworks in the collections. She is not a lawyer or someone with a job that keeps her away from reading books.
She knows the names of politicians, the important global ones at least. She hates some of them, the corrupt ones, but still has trust in others. They are not all the same.
She knows how to cook a meal, not just a grilled sandwich. She also likes when I cook for her, on a rainy Friday night.
She is not afraid of flying and likes travelling, but with the sense of guilt when taking the plane because of the CO2 emissions, and takes the train instead when possible. Climate change is real.
She laughs, loudly, and has a constant desire to communicate with the rest of the world.
She cries, when watching films, mainly non-American ones where the characters are losers not selling us messages or products.
She likes walking, because that’s the smallest of journeys one can take without going too far. She is strong and can be harsh when upset, but also affectionate and loyal.
She only exists in my dreams, that’s why I fall asleep without her every night, so I can be with her.
Image: Gustav Klimt, Second Study for “Water Serpents II”, 1919 Artsy.