etched in one's memory

The year was 1987.

I don't know who she was, or why she chose that moment to etch those words in ancient glass. I discovered the message last weekend, when staying at my friend's magic house in the English countryside. My bedroom was in the part of the house that was once a monastery (back before Henry VIII destroyed most of them). I was photographing the invisible road, lined with trees, that seemed to head straight for my bedroom window, where a large plexiglass chair hung from the ceiling (it really is a remarkable house).

It was the first morning waking in this magical place, where I had been awake much of the night, inspired by images of the monks, and the pixies and fairies and King Arthur legends. And then - because I didn't see the words right away - I tried to figure out who this person was - this Genuivere di Gist, who was a cad.

Why was he a cad? Who was the girl who wrote this? Whose advances had been rebuffed by this cool bad boy, a slender devastatingly handsome youth who had carelessly tread on her heart, having declared undying love, then gone and snogged her best friend. The glass of the windowpanes was ancient. What sharp object can etch glass? Only diamonds, far as I know.

I wonder what she used, to carve this message. Perhaps it was the ring that he gave her, before he broke her heart.

Later, in the adjoining bathroom, I saw another message. But this one was totally indecipherable, blurred as if by the fog from my bubble bath, the rain, and her tears.