I am colour blind. My heart, like in black and white. Film flickering. Street lights, stage lights. The people, extras passing by. Through the window of a bar, a couple in love. A pretty girl everywhere. A glass of wine. Two, three. Voices from an open window on third. Slow, fast, slow, but without the music. A camera, a blurred photograph. Scribblings on the wall. No sense, nonsense. A night in black and white. A glass of black wine, like ink. It writes itself in colour as it keeps the rhythm. 120 bpm, inside. 60 outside. Putting on the mask for another 60. Faces and legs, the perfect picture. Painted over black and white.
Red
In English, Love, Poetry
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Dec 212011
The traveller
In English, Life
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Dec 202011
The Traveller
Woke up in a strange mood. I can’t shake the feeling that something life-changing is about to happen. Or if it’s because I’m going to Paris for a few days. Dad is going to stay here while I’m gone. Hopefully he’ll tend to my flowers, but I just watered them, so they should be fine.
I didn’t bother to buy something for breakfast, which means that I am quite hungry. I’ll pick something up on my way to my friend and the massage that I’m getting before I leave. I’m looking forward to some wine tonight. I better send my friend a message about that.
Colbie Caillat always makes me think about what never came to pass. I shouldn’t be listening to her while I’m in this mood. It just fortifies it and that’s no good. Anyway, I need to do the dishes before I go. All packed and ready otherwise. Off I go.
The third one this evening
In English, Love, People
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Dec 172011
It used to be simple. Or so it seemed. I got what I wanted – sometimes. Or if it was that I just stumbled upon it and got lucky. Still, it never went as I wanted it to. Some things did, though. Some things did.
A tied up goat, waiting in the clearing, just moments away from its fate. What would it do if given the chance? Would it live its life differently? Would it know the difference?
Now and again there are fleeting rays. Of what, I do not know. Sometimes they seem to be like rays of the sun, but only for a moment, then they’re gone, like they were not there.
I get off the bus and walk away. The city is dark, wet and noisy. I walk home on the silent back streets. There’s rain, but I hardly feel it. A street light flickers and dies. The third one this evening. I close the door behind me, walk the few remaining steps and lie down. I breathe slowly and try to feel something good. I try to make sense. One breath at a time. Slowly, deeply.
Losing it and getting lost
In English, Life, Photography, Writing
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Dec 122011
Unfortunately I’m not all that well at the moment. I sleep badly, I eat poorly, my sugar levels are almost through the roof, and I’m not going to the gym as often as I want and need to. Of course, I know that it is all connected and that all I have to do is to straighten up, but… There’s always this “but”. It’s really annoying. I am changing all that starting today. I need to be well.
I was going to start a new job today, but all the red tape is not done with yet, I’m afraid, so I stayed in bed later than usual. My memory seems to get worse as well (a side effect of high sugar levels, no doubt), because I cannot remember if I had any breakfast. Since I am not particularly hungry, I must deduce that I did have breakfast.
Paris by night in the 20's and 30's - Photo from Bruce Silverstein Gallery
I’ll be on my way soon, to pick up my new passport. I’m going to Paris next week and I get quite childishly joyful at the thought of it. I love Paris. I’m going to stay with my dear friend Bojan, who has invited me over for Christmas. It’s going to be great to see my friends again. Also, I’ll bring my camera and my notebook and try to get some photography and writing done while I’m there. I do not know how people celebrate Christmas in France, but it will be fantastic however they do it. Besides, it’s practically a done deal with all that marvellous Bordeaux and good food.
I’m looking forward to get lost on the streets of Paris and not know where I am at all. Something I hope will happen almost every day. To be completely lost is always the best way to get to know a city and its people. I love that.
Dipped in tar and rolled in feathers
In English, Life, People
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Dec 042011
It’s a hard task being a humorous man with important things to say about life. When I am trying to be funny, people take me too seriously, and when I am trying to do good things for other people, I get criticized as a person (not my deeds, strangely enough). I’d hate to be in Santa Claus’s shoes in this town. He’ll probably be dipped in tar and rolled in feathers before Christmas.