Sparks of Cinema Love

The first time I met Aiden was in a bar.

I’d just arrived in Denmark, and was trying to make friends with the other Germans living in the camp.

It wasn’t easy; there were few people my age, or who spoke any English.

I got drunk that night, and when I woke up, I found myself in Aiden’s caravan.

He was a movie maker, he told me.

He showed me some of the movies he'd made; they were mostly short animations and cartoons.

He was talented, I thought, but I had no idea what he saw in me.

The next day we went for a walk in the woods, and he kissed me.

We spent nearly every day together after that.

We would drive into town to watch his movies at the cinema, then go back to my bunk and have sex.

He made me laugh with his stories about how he’d smuggled an entire projector across the border and hidden it in the trunk of his car before fleeing Germany for Denmark.

I shared all my own dreams with him: dreams of starting a family and moving back to Germany one day, where we could live like normal people again.

Aiden believed we could do it, even though I knew it was impossible.

Aiden always saw the best in people, even when they acted like animals toward us refugees.

I didn’t mind it so much anymore – but there were days when I missed my family, when I wondered if they were even still alive… and when I looked at Aiden's kind eyes, I felt glad that God had given me such a good man as my husband.

One afternoon we drove out to a quiet spot by the lake.

It was windy but sunny; the weather had been fine all week long, as if it had forgotten that winter was coming soon.

We sat on our blanket and watched the ducks quacking happily around their nests along the bank of sand near us.

"I'm taking you to see something special," Aiden said suddenly. "This isn't just a date." He smiled mischievously at me before standing up and walking back to his car parked along the road nearby. He returned carrying a black trunk which he set down on our blanket before opening it up with a flourish of his hands like a magician performing a magic trick. Inside was an old-fashioned projector which he began fiddling with while humming quietly under his breath. After some tinkering and fiddling around with wires, he finally managed to get it working: The first image appeared on our blanket - grainy at first but then growing clearer as more light flooded through its small lens - until finally we were surrounded by a magical window on all sides filled with moving images of golden leaves falling from trees and blue water rippling along the banks of white sand beaches swept by winds from faraway lands… and beneath it all, two people sitting together on a picnic blanket amidst an endless expanse of green grass filled with flowers whose names I didn't know yet because this land was so different from mine - but everything else about them seemed familiar somehow - their dark hair like mine - their sun-kissed skin like mine - their lips pressed against each other's… like ours…