Welcome to the fifth installment in this series. Some basic house rules before we proceed together.

First, if you have somehow reached this story without reading the three that preceded it, then you can find them here,here, here, and here. If you attempt to proceed without reading it, you may indeed find immense satisfaction but will certainly find hopeless confusion as well.

Second, as previously promised, I will be giving you a musical guide to compliment the written word. These songs helped me write these words, put me in touch with my soul, and in some cases, brought me back to these moments you will read about.

I suggest listening to the music softly while you read. However, you may do as you wish.

If you have duly prepared yourself, then I have no further reason to delay you.

Now let’s see...the first time I saw magic in real life...

Quando, Quando, Quando - Michael Buble

I’ll never forget how nervous and excited I was that night. We decided to meet outside the international building of our university and then walk together to this restaurant. One of my floor mates had celebrated her birthday at this place a few weeks before, but it was the first time I had been there. The instant I walked in I thought of her. The style, the aura, the presence all seemed to cast an image that was a near perfect reflection of her essence.

I was confident I had chosen wisely and could hardly contain my excitement accompanied with a heavy dose of nervous apprehension.

I kept trying to give myself mental pep talks, but I could not seem to calm myself.

Me. Her. Dinner. Restaurant. Together. No one else.

I kept envisioning myself falling flat on my face or committing some kind of other gaffe in front of her that would completely destroy any chance I had with this woman forever.

I arrived early. Too early.

I don’t know what I was thinking showing up a near quarter hour before our designated rendezvous time. I did not have the wherewithal to realize that being there so early would only open myself up to even more butterflies and nervous apprehension than if I had arrived when I told her I would.

She was running late, which only compounded the trembling in my knees and in my chest.

She messaged me and told me to meet her at the intersection down the street. As I walked down the heavily trodden grey path, I tried to calm the trembling. At that point the cynic presence within my mind was telling me the lack of control was due to fear whilst my grounded heart whispered that it was due to joyful exuberance.

But when I laid my eyes on her as she came into view on the street corner all those butterflies rushed up and out of my stomach so quick and so fast it robbed me of my breath.

When I was finally able to catch the air again, a presence of warmth and adoration washed over me like a warm, cleansing rain soaking your favorite T-shirt in the summer time. Her beauty coaxed a smile from the lips and a joyful laugh from my heart. We were standing at opposite ends of the intersection, again she had noticed me first.

The irony of the scene as it related to my internal conflictions did not escape me. Here we were on the opposite ends of an intersection. Two paths at a crossing point. Would they converge? Would they split? Who would cross the street?

I walked up to the corner and looked both ways as the traffic trickled past. I waited for the light to change. I looked down at my feet to make sure they were still planted on the ground.

As I heard the walk light flash on and the noise signaling safe crossing accompany it, I looked up preparing to take my first steps across the intersection and down a path towards a destination that was hidden from my sight…but she beat me to it. She was already a quarter of the way across before I had the chance to spurn movement from my legs.

I froze. I did not care that the bistro was actually in the direction from which she was coming. I did not care that I had been early and she had been late. I did not care about anything at that point except watching her cross the street.

The moment I would fall in to step with her or begin talking with her, all the inner demons that are intimate to our persons and only slain through vivid and vulnerable expression would silence themselves as if to somehow delay the friendly executioner. I would hardly even remember that I had been on the verge of a mental break down just minutes ago.

Maybe it was because I would immerse myself in magic of the moment, every moment that I had with this woman. Maybe she had some kind of magical spell over me. Maybe it was because I adored her soul so much that I was blinded to all other things when I was within its immediate perimeter.

Maybe I was just being a nervous fool; jury’s still out on that one.

When we arrived at the restaurant the waitress sat us in an intimate corner table. I could have kissed the woman, she gave us a better spot than I could have dreamed of.

We spent the entire night no more than six inches away from each other. The restaurant was a sort of vintage-modern twist with 50s music and vintage décor interspersed with a modern layout and lighting design. It had a sort of Euro-Americano vintage vibe.

Our table was placed in such a way that the entire landscape of the eatery was laid out before us to observe. A treat for two individuals with the active desire for people that we both share.

As she settled into her seat she looked around the entire space seeming to survey every detail and drink in the curated mood of this venue. My heart had been in my throat as we walked in to the restaurant a few moments earlier as I thought of what her verdict on my choice would be. The instant I saw her begin to look around, I did not have a doubt about the answer.

She looked thrilled. Her eyes were sparkling and it wasn’t just because of the lighting in the restaurant. Her verdict was short and concise…”Wow,” she exclaimed softly.

I nearly fell out of my chair.

Before I could even regain my internal balance, she looked at me. Her mouth was drawn into a smile that splashed up to the corners of her eyes and further reflected her satisfaction.

“You were right,” she said with the smile still decorating her face, “You chose very well, I love it.”

…my heart melted.

It was all I could do to keep myself from jumping out of my chair and releasing a roar of victory. Thankfully my sensibilities prevailed. I knew in my bones that the vibe of this place would be a perfect fit for her persona. Hearing her confirm as much was practically a validation of my entire life.

A Kiss To Build A Dream On - Louis Armstrong

We sat in that restaurant for three hours. The dusk turning to a crisp evening outside, the food came and sat untouched for a long while as we continued to talk unabated. Religion, politics, life, love, philosophy, morals and values, wine — no matter the topic her intelligence and thirst for knowledge radiated through.

I remember sitting in that chair, every ounce of my attention fixated on her in complete and utter awe. She was brilliant. So beautifully brilliant, and we shared many of the same philosophies about beliefs.

At some point in the conversation on this particular topic, she asked me what my life philosophy was. I paused for a moment as I pondered my response...

I have not always had an easy life, in fact some might say it has been a fairly difficult one with a great deal of adversity. But regardless, I believe, as I cannot speak for anyone other than myself, I should be kind to others always because no matter how bad I think my life might be, I never know the struggles and battles the person I am interacting with has gone through or is going through presently. No matter who they are, beyond any assumptions we may make in the initial moments of an interaction based on what they may be saying, wearing, doing, or thinking, one thing is certain…we never truly know what someone has or is currently going through. So be kind, always.

I remember her leaning her head back and smiling when I finished saying that to her. She took out her phone, pulled up her Facebook cover photo and showed it to me. At first I thought she didn’t understand what I had said or that I had spoken too fast. Then she pointed to the caption in Italian, and began to translate it to me…”Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. Be kind, always”

WE HAD THE SAME FREAKING LIFE PHILOSOPHY!!!

I leaned back and let out an exasperated sigh. Exasperated only because this revelation of reflection of my soul in hers was so unexpected I had no idea what to think, let alone say. I let out a silent thank you to the universe under my breath for giving me that sign to help douse the intensity of my doubt and restore my faith vigorously.

It began to dawn on me that every time I let that creeping doubt begin to take over my feelings, the universe would always give me a little something to take the edge off through this beautiful conduit. I began to question whether or not I should challenge myself to stop losing my faith and just put complete and unadulterated trust in those mysterious forces I could never possibly hope to understand.

I did not think myself ready as I sat there with her at that table in that low lit restaurant nestled into the cobblestone streets of Milan. So nothing could have prepared me for when the universe took that simple question of whether or not I should challenge myself to have faith and turned it on it's head two hours later.

But I'm getting ahead of myself...back to dinner.

When our burgers arrived (Yes, you read that right. Burgers, real burgers, in Italy) we didn’t touch them initially. We were too caught up in a conversation about fairytales. Her favorite was one I had never heard of before, “Il Piccolo Principe” (The Little Prince).

As she began to tell me about it, I remembered that I had seen an animated film of the same story playing on a television in an electronic store in Paris several months earlier. I smiled to myself as I thought back to animated sequences and realized just how perfectly the story fit with this woman.

When we finally set our sights on our food, it had been on the table for at least 25 minutes. Hardly able to contain my starvation I grabbed my burger, nearly forgetting it had been six months since I had tasted a real hamburger that was not fast food. I glanced over at her and she smiled and told me I would have to show her how to eat it. She had never had a real hamburger before.

My jaw hit the floor so fast and hard I thought I had broken it. I had not even conceived the thought that she had never had a real burger before. I quickly composed myself and tried to seize the opportunity. After assuring her that there was no pretty way to eat a burger and pointing out the basic mechanics involving the index finger and thumbs in great detail we were off to the races.

She paused before she took the first bite.

"Tonight, I am a real American girl," she said proudly.

It's a simple enough sentence. Perhaps eliciting a soft laugh, a broad smile and a few giggles. But you know what else I saw in that seemingly simple statement? I saw her insatiable desire for people. Her vibrance for life and passion to experience it not only through the vivid expressions of written prose but the intimacy of a human moment. It did not overwhelm and draw from the moment but it peeked through just enough for me to catch a glimpse as she smiled confidently.

I was smitten.

The actual eating was the quietest part of the evening. That’s saying a lot because I left half of my food on the plate. We were taking so many pauses between bites to talk that I had actually grown tired of taking my eyes off of her to look down at my plate and pick up my food. So I gave up on the food and continued to soak up every aura of her presence.

As the evening wore on, we left the restaurant. She was always so busy I figured she would have to leave right after dinner. Of course, it was this night that she was free to spend time with me. I smiled at her but inside I was beginning to panic. I had not planned anything beyond dinner and here was this exceptional woman standing before me and I quickly began to convince myself that I was about to make a fool out of myself. I had no idea what to do or where to go.

Then I abruptly stopped, literally stopped walking on the sidewalk, and closed my eyes in order to compose myself. I took a deep breath and as I let it out I could feel myself begin to regain control of my spinning head. I tuned out the overbearing shriek in my head of trying to come up with some grand way to impress her and quieted my mind. With my head in subdued silence, the soft voice hidden beneath the throbbing in my heart began to speak to me.

“You’re enraptured with this girl because she is so beautifully genuine. Just be real and the rest will work itself out.”

I took a moment to think on who I was.

I am sometimes stubborn but always humble. I genuinely care more about others than I do about myself. I’ve been told I am a born leader. I believe in laughter above all things. I take greater pride in coaxing a smile out of another human being than any other accomplishment I have achieved to date. I adore music and always use it to try and demystify the complexities of reality. I always look for the beauty outside of myself even though sometimes I can only see darkness when I look within. I am afraid of personal rejection and heights but little else. I can get just as lost in a city street as I could in a remote jungle. I love passionately and whole-heartedly.

I knew exactly where to take her.

It Only Takes a Moment - Michael Crawford

We walked to the Duomo. Duomo di Milano is a gothic cathedral that is the third largest church in the world and took nearly six centuries to complete. It is a focal point to the city of Milan and my favorite building in the world. So, we trekked past the closed up shops still finding ourselves ensconced in conversation.

As we came upon the square I took a moment to capture the scene. A cool crisp spring evening. A massive square, usually brimming with humanity, was mostly quiet on this particular evening. The massive cathedral accentuating the scene and the moment.

As we entered the square, both of our gazes fell upon the cathedral in front of us. I was standing behind her and began to explain why I was so enraptured by this building that I had seen a thousand times; that the hundreds of individual statuettes that adorned its exterior intrigued me beyond description. The presence of generations of people who had stood in this square before us was palpable to me as I knew it was to her. Its beauty is still something I struggle to find the words for. Much like the beauty of the woman I was standing with.

I remember telling her how incredulous it was to me that this building took so long to build. Six centuries. Think about how long that period of time is. Generations of people are laboring on a building they knew they nor their children would never see completed. How does one find the motivation to continue a task that they know they will never see to its completion? These kind of existential questions fascinate me.

I was standing so close to her I was nearly whispering into her ear, using my left hand to elaborately paint the picture I was describing across the night sky. She stood there quietly listening and drinking in the picture I was painting for her.

What she did next is something I will vividly remember for the rest of my life.

I was still standing behind her when she took a step forward away from me. With her feet together, she spun on her heels and faced me. She took a breath in and paused before she began to speak.

She started to tell me about people, how we are all interconnected; that we each have this invisible string on an endless spool that constantly uncoils as we move through our daily lives. That string marks our presence in a specific place at a specific moment in time. As each person and their string moves about the day, a beautiful tapestry of humanity is created and added to with each sunrise and sunset.

Then she began to tell me about specific people that had been in that square before us. She preceded every single story with “I see.” She saw a couple walking away from each other in the opposite direction only to stop and look longingly back at each other from some distance away. She saw a mother and a child beneath the shadow of the church.

These people were not physically there in the square with us, but I believe with every fiber of my being that she could see them as clearly as I could see her standing beneath the shadow of that magnificent cathedral.

It was as if she had reached out and pinched the air with her fingers and whatever strings were woven through that spot in that square she was grasping and weaving like a seamstress. She kept talking, but to be honest, I don’t remember another word she said. Every other presence in the square that night faded from my periphery until only hers remained. I watched her continue to weave as I admired the inexplicable majesty of what I was bearing witness to.

I cannot explain rationally what I was watching her do. There is no "common sense" explanation that an academic might find acceptable.

I was witnessing magic.

And I was absolutely, unequivocally in love with what I was witnessing before me.

It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I have never met someone so intuitively connected with others. A more cynical observer might have applauded her for a vivid imagination, but I assure you that as a fellow cynic, more often that I care to admit, that was not what was on display here. It was a moment of magic, perhaps the first real such moment I have ever had in my life.

I was enraptured, and when she finished, I had no words. I attempted to create speech several times but all I could muster were exasperated gasps of awe.

We stood there in silent observation of the Duomo for another few minutes, the silence speaking clearer than any voice could. I took advantage of the quiet to regain my composure before we moved on from the square and continued our evening.

We began to walk down a street that leads to one of the metro stations and came upon a structure known as Loggia dei Mercanti. I remembered some of my Italian friends telling me about the building with its open air arches on the ground level. It was used as a market hundreds of years ago and contained a special secret within its architectural design.

I turned and asked her if she had ever heard of this place or the well-known secret of its walls. She said she did not, and I could not believe my luck. If our moment in Piazza Duomo was the main event of the evening, then this was about to be the grand finale.

I led her beneath the arches. I looked around trying to find the perfect spot for it to work. She had just shared some her magic with me now it was my turn to return the favor. I led her to the front right corner, and when I was satisfied I had picked a suitable spot, I shared with her the secret.

“There is something special about the design of these walls. They whisper to each other,” I said excitedly.

Here’s what that means.

The walls were designed with specific acoustic properties taken into account during their construction. Two people can stand on diagonally opposite sides of the arches, and if they whisper directly into the wall, then the person on the other side can hear you clearly.

Legend has it the merchants of the old days used this trick to coordinate with each other and set prices. I do not know if that is true or not.

After sharing this with her, I sent her off to her corner and slowly walked into my own trying to overcome the nervous anticipation. As I put my face close to the wall, I could not help but smile. This was definitely one of the more romantic things I was ever about to do. There was no nervousness or apprehension — I was confident in what I was about to do.

“Can you hear me?” I whispered quietly.

Silence…

“Are you there?” I asked again.

Silence…the string of words that played out in my head are not appropriate for the text within these pages. I was losing it.

“No, no, no, no, why does this always happen to me!” I lamented to myself. I thought perhaps what I heard about the walls was an urban legend and not actually true. Maybe I picked the wrong arch.

As if she sensed my internal turmoil she spoke out to me from across the way.

“Speak a little louder.”

Instantly, the crashing din within my mind went silent.

“A simple enough solution,” I thought to myself. I stepped back up to the wall and tried again.

“Can you hear me?” I asked a little louder than I had before.

“Yes,” she replied clearly.

It worked! I couldn’t believe it. I was smiling so big I nearly collapsed into laughter as I tried to get more words out of my mouth.

To Build A Home - The Cinematic Orchestra

“It works! What should we do?” I chuckled to her across the way.

“Sing something for me,” she said.

I smiled and rested my forehead on the wall to keep my balance. Could you imagine a more perfect scene? I certainly couldn't. Singing through the whispering walls with the Duomo practically within spitting distance? It was too perfect.

I took a deep breath and agreed to sing something for her. Then I realized something…I had to sing to her. What the hell was I going to sing?! I had not thought that far ahead.

I began racking my brain for a song selection. Music is one of the most critical parts of my life, so this was not a small list but a massive catalog. It had to be something that was personal for the both of us. This was the "grand" part of the grand finale.

Suddenly, the shroud of nervous anticipation that clouded my mind was cast away by the brilliant light of enlightenment. I had a song. Not just any song. The perfect song for this moment. I remembered back at the restaurant when we were talking about our favorite fairy tales. I had told her I was raised on Disney movies.

Everyone knows Disney movies. She knew Disney movies. So I sang the Disney song that I thought fit perfectly into that moment. That perfectly fit her and her insatiable desire for the world and all the people within it…"A Whole New World" from "Aladdin."

I took a breath and stepped onto my stage. I put my mouth close enough to the wall that I could feel the warmth of my breath on the skin immediately surrounding my nose and mouth. I opened my mouth, and the next thing I knew, I had just softly crooned through a verse and a chorus.

After the chorus I stopped and waited.

Silence.

After three agonizing seconds of silence I stepped back and turned around to face her. She was still facing the wall, completely still as if someone had taken a freeze frame picture of her. I caught my breath as I saw motion return to her body. She turned around and when I saw her face I was a puddle of happiness. Her face was as bright as the sun. She had the biggest smile I had ever seen from her, and her eyes were sparkling so intensely they were practically dancing. It was like Broadway times infinity.

And with that radiant smile she said one word, and with that one word, any chance of me saving myself from her spell was hopelessly lost.

“Wow,” she said radiantly.

I was ruined. I was overjoyed that this woman had been brought into my life but heartbroken at the thought of leaving her in a few short weeks. I was thankful to the universe that I spent even a few fleeting moments with her but cursed the universe all the same for the brevity of our time together. I knew for certain she was unlike anyone I had ever met before. I knew without question she had touched my soul in a way no one had been able to.

I could hardly conceive how such a seemingly perfect person could exist, and as I thought on just how much of my life was ahead of me, I became terrified by the mere suggestion that there could be someone out there even better than her. I couldn’t believe it; I don’t want to believe it. If there is, I am not sure I want to meet them because I don’t think I could handle it.

Besides that, I was perfectly content letting this woman ruin me for all others.

As for the rest of that night, she took me to a well behind the Loggia dei Mercanti and told me a little bit about it and why it interested her so much. We walked to a nearby tram stop because of the lateness of the hour. We stood there waiting together for sometime.

I asked her more about her dreams and what she wanted to create.

She began to tell me of her dream to create of grand project sharing peoples stories with the world. As I watched her tell me about it, I saw yet again her passion and desire. I could feel it in my bones that this was her life's purpose, to be a teller of stories and weaver together beautiful tapestries of humanity. .

I don't know why I said what I said next, but I could feel it in my bones that I needed to get it off my chest. I think it was another one of those moments where my mouth had a mind of its own, running ahead whilst leaving my mind as a mere observer in the background.

I looked her in the eyes. I wanted her to know I believed every syllable of what I was about to say. I wanted her to know that I had seen her, seen all her radiance and beauty and recognized it for the treasure that it is. I wanted her to know that I would always see her exactly that same way, and I would never forget no matter the time or distance that we might find between us. I wanted her to know that I could hear her heart and see her soul.

"I know you will accomplish that dream...and when I see this project, no matter where I am, no matter how much time has passed, I know I will be seeing your soul laid bare," I said to her.

She didn't understand me at first. She thought I meant that the project would actually be about her. I paused and tried to think of a way to explain what I was trying to say. I don't know how it came to me, but what I said to her next might be the most enlightened thought I have ever had in my life (if I do say so myself).

I proposed to her this question.

"Whenever you read a book, no matter the subject matter, who do you learn the most about? It doesn't matter if it's fiction or nonfiction, page one or page whatever, who do you learn the most about?"

Some might think it is the main character. Others an event in history or a parable of sorts. Hardly able to contain myself I gave her the answer before I had barely finished breathing life to the question.

"The author," I said.

"Every time you read a book, the person you learn the most about, from page one to page whatever, the person you learn the most about, the person you are getting the deepest insight to, the soul you are seeing written on the page, is not a character in the book...it's the author. So with your project, whenever I see it, whatever it may be, I know it will be everything you have. That every ounce of your soul will go into it; that I will be seeing your soul laid bare"

She smiled and leaned her head back, once again raising her eyes to heavens and letting a beautifully warm smile grace her complexion in the evening light. I figured the next thing I was about to hear was my favorite three letter reaction but once again, just as I thought I had regained my equilibrium, she would surprise me and throw me for a loop.

"You make me happy," she said to me deliberately as if she was picking each word with the utmost care.

"So happy...words cannot say. It's like you see me and understand me and understand people," she continued warmly.

"You make me happier than I have ever been before in my life. You are the most amazing woman I have ever met," I replied back to her

We stood there in silence for another few minutes. There was no need to speak words to each other anymore — our hearts were talking to each other loudly enough.

The tram arrived and I rode with her for a time as the contraption rumbled towards her place.

As we sat together on the tram, a million things ran through my head. I decided since this evening had gone even more spectacularly than I ever could have conceived I could afford on more risk. One more moment of pure vulnerability to rejection.

She had not rejected me yet, even in the most menial way. I figured this was it. If she doesn’t reject this proposal, then I should take it as a sign from the universe that I am not totally crazy, and there is most definitely something here.

"Rejection is always better than regret," I whispered to myself reassuringly.

So I leaned over and told her I had to ask her something. As we rolled up to her stop, I asked her to come with me to a gala the International Student Organization was throwing in June.

She said she was certain she was free that evening and that she would love to go with me. I tried to temper my reaction and was so thankful that at that moment we arrived at her tram stop. I bid her farewell, thanked her for the exquisite company and watched her as she got off the tram. I lowered my head in an effort to prevent myself from jumping out of my seat in exuberance.

I had never had a night like that. It was like a scene from a romance movie. No, it was better.

I sat in that tram seat grinning like an idiot for another three stops before I had to get off. As I jumped off the metal beast, I put my earbuds into my ears, turned on my music, and without any kind of care as to who happened to see me on the street that night, I danced, yelled and sang the entire six block walk back to my dormitory completely incapable of containing the joy that filled my heart.

Little did I know that there was another night to come with this woman that would be even better than this one had been. Little did I know it would be my final night with her in the city where we first laid eyes on each other. Little did I know that I would discover that night that for me she would be the end of all things...but that's one more story...