A good friend reminded me that today is my name day and,to be honest,I was a little bit shocked,though pleased.Shocked because it's once again hard to grasp the meaning of another year gone by and pleased because I don't shy away from an opportunity to feel special.
I love my name and I feel lucky I do so.It fits me in all its shapes and forms,common or uncommon as it may be.
My dad,an Adrian himself,decided to call me this way (since my mother wanted to have a boy and also wanted to leave me at the hospital)-but that's another story for another day.
Even so,I'm always Anda/Andu around the house and hearing my "real" name in these circumstances would totally creep me out.
Adriana reminds me of the sea,of royal gold,of times and places covered in a nostalgic glow.It's ivory against milky marble and the sound of crashing waves.It's a sequence of letters that translates into history and soul.It's one of the few things I can call my own without feeling a pang of despair in my chest.
I'm not a name,but my name.
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