Postcards from Egypt… with saudade

Postcards… written somewhere along the Nile

carrying a strange warmth called Saudade —

a feeling that doesn’t simply mean missing someone or something,

but longing for a place, a person, a moment

you adored…

and want to live again.

And yes —

I feel Saudade.

Saudade of my friends.

Saudade of my lovers.

And Saudade of you —

you beautiful men

who visited me with so much pleasure and devotion.

Here, I am constantly moving,

answering the call of Anubis

and other ancient spirits who summoned me to this land.

It is sacred.

It is powerful.

But pleasure…

pleasure has been scarce.

I definitely miss those final Vancouver days

where I was having at least a couple hours of

very… very good sex

every single day.

So tonight —

a small retrospective of the journey so far.

And a chronicle

of the only Montreal encounter

worth remembering.

You —

the collector of fantasies.

You mirrored me in a rare way:

a bratty artist

with a beautifully twisted mind.

An outlier among outliers.

Your house — a private museum

built from devotion and desire.

What a dance we choreographed:

push and pull…

command and tease…

a duel of witches disguised as lovers.

I teased you first.

You captured me with your camera.

Then you teased me

by delaying the pictures —

letting me crave the evidence

of our magic.

And dear readers —

I won’t tease you.

Not tonight.

Here, I will share a glimpse

of what we created.

A reminder that even among pyramids and gods…

I still long for mischief,

for heat,

for the delicious trouble found in the North west of my current latitudes.