Everything is illuminated

Always when in Italy, I am put against the same problem: Which books to buy, when luggage is limited and there are billions of great, cheap books all around you. Italians know how to set the price for a book. I am like a kid in a candystore when in Italy. All over the place there are bookstores and bookstores and bookstores, filled with the most marvelous treasures!

Today I left one of those stores with two books in my hand. I had, as very often these past days, spent the morning shopping around in one of them. The burning sun outside wasn't enough for me to leave the freshness of the store and it's many-coloured "lecca leccas" (lollipops) - books that is. Very pleased with my purchases I felt the Italian version of Jonathan Safran Foer's Everything is illuminated and as well the Italian version of Paulo Coelho's The Pilgrimage (O diário de um mago) burning in my hands. Ogni cosa è Illuminato and Il cammino di Santiago.

The first one I had to get - it is, by far, one of the best books ever written and not a second will be wasted when reading it, instead, it will open your soul and it will let the magic find its way inside. The second one I have, oddly enough, never read. But as I got the special edition of the book, the covers will match the calendars of 2009 and 2010 as well as the book "Love" with graphics by Catalina Estrada. (Please have a look at Catalina's website, showing her beautiful style.)

Yes, it was a good day.

Pics of the day

The best thing with being on a vacation is that the level of inspiration always goes up. Here are some pics from yesterday.

No good with faces

Jack --
Do you remember when all magic required, was to suddenly hear you sing on the radio?
I always felt so blessed, even knowing,
that I could have picked up the album from the pile on my stereo
and listened to those same songs.
Any time.
I always found a song to go
with my mood swings, rising up, going down.
There were you. Singing those words that I needed you to.
Jack --
Something happened and it left me
gasping for air for a few moments.
Maybe you grew up, or maybe it was me.
Maybe we both did?
Or maybe you moving on
to more ordinary things
didn't match my mood swings.
No more.
And as I turned up the volume
to better grasp your lyrics
I was left in what felt like a silly space
between then and now.
I felt the magic return
I felt the magic return
No good with faces and I'm bad with names.
One single line could have done it for me, but it continued,
leading me further down the road
that we walked so many times
contemplating life.
Jack --
Let's not be afraid of our reflections.
I knew you would return, if not for long,
then even for the length of one song.

It is easier to be brave, when not afraid

One of the first stories my parents read to me was Who will comfort Toffle? by Tove Jansson. Little Toffle, who was afraid of the world outside, but too afraid of being alone to have the courage to stay inside. Leaving his home to encounter the world, but again feeling too shy to make new friends. But sometimes it doesn't require more than a a scared Toffle to be the brave one for someone else. It was a story that made me feel a bit scared, a bit sad, and finally, happy. It was all about being brave, even though inside you're scared. Strangely enough, that is the theme I've been stumbling upon during the last few days. It is not matched by the feelings inside of me, so it leaves me puzzled, for now.

So a few days ago I bought a card (Yes, a Moomin one) saying "It certainly is easier to be brave, when not afraid".
I instantly thought of those people in my life that always seem so brave. Grabbing all bulls by their horns, without a shadow of a doubt. I am not like that. At least not consequently so.

I must admit, I sometimes fake it when I'm too afraid to be as brave as the situation requires. I make believe I am somebody else, somebody I know would be brave. It makes it a bit easier. It makes it easier to forget about being afraid and instead opening up for being more brave.

On the other hand. Toffle was so afraid, yet when meeting somebody even more afraid, he seemed very brave in comparison. From zero to hero, just by changing the point of view. And I bet that made Toffle a bit more brave, a bit less afraid, in the end.

I feel joy by just looking at you, he said

I feel joy by just looking at you, he said
and seemed genuinely glad
He already imagined dance floors
Where we would have our twirl.
Let's have a chat,
I'm sad it's been so long
So we checked our calendars and agreed
to catch up as weekend dawned.

Next thing I know
I see him out in the rain.
Lifting a cigarette to his mouth,
letting the umbrella spin.
The rain hit hard on the streets
as I ran closer in four inch heels
I lifted my hand to greet him
as the car pulled in.
Oh, he said, it's my girlfriend
and pointed at the car
I was left baffled,
Too good we never got that far.

I already can hear my mother say
He had no clue what was good for him anyway
Twisting between exes and you
If you ask me, he'd never do.

I guess my mother would be right
I guess I'll have to forget about this night.
Turn to those who genuinely choose
To let go of the past and move on to what's new.

A moment of pleasure

It was half past eleven and the sky was clear and light. I just love these summer evenings. The sun never sets - it feels like magic. It makes me feel so lucky. So, anyway, there I was, pushing forward on the bike. I still tasted the red wine on my lips and I was again mesmerized by the magic of life, love, summer and a never setting sun. If painted like a cartoon, it would have showed my hair blowing in the wind, butterflies surrounding me as I bicycled towards home. Because that was the feeling. The sky was pink and the air was warm.

Suddenly I saw her. She just laid there, in the middle of the street. Any car could have ran her over. Her head resting on the ground. Was she sleeping? Was she...dead? I jumped of the bike as quick as I could and ran over to her.
- Excuse me, Ma'am, are you OK?
Her eyes popped open. I wasn't sure I was awake anymore.
- I will help you get up. Are you hurting somewhere? There is blood on your forehead.
I stretched out my hand and took hers. It was warm.
She couldn't speak. She tried to say something, but it didn't come out right.
- Here, grab my hands, I'll pull you up.
She tried to take my hands, but had no strength to pull herself up.
- I want to go home, she suddenly murmured, Please help me get home.
I wasn't sure if the lady was drunk or having some kind of seizure.
- I'll help you get home.
I made an emergency call. The first one in my life. As I called I tried to help the lady sit upright. I had not enough strength to lift her up.
As I was talking on the phone a young man pulled up on his bike. He immediately grabbed the lady by her waist and pulled her up. A car pulled in. A foreigner stepped out.
- Do you need help?
- I'm getting help right now on the phone!
There we were, four strangers in the night. One old lady (and yes, she had had a few too many drinks), one very helpful, handsome foreigner (I'm guessing Spanish), one young man, and me, a girl with butterflies in her hair. We chatted with the old lady who was thankful for having been saved. She wanted to hug all of us. As she hugged the handsome foreigner she laughed out loud, nodding approvingly. The foreigner looked at me, waiting for a translation.
- She's totally feeling you, I said. He smiled.
The old lady continued nodding approvingly.
- Very big muscles, she then said and laughed again.
We all did.

It took forever for help to arrive, but as it finally did, we said goodbye to the old lady and looked at each other. It was easy to see, there were three sets of glimmering eyes - we had just shared an odd moment of pleasure beneath the clear summer sky.

Luck favours the prepared

Apparently Louis Pasteur said "luck favours the prepared" and this quote got me and a friend reflecting on things one late night a few weeks ago.
We came up with a hypothetical theory of how to prepare luck to throw in a man in this single life.

As a single lady in her best years - at least that's the way we'd like to see things - one has to start making efforts. Until now I have more or less relied on life to in one of its twists and turns make me stumble upon that man with the capital M. Well, after being very single indeed for the last few years, it is time to realize something: It might not happen. And this is the backdrop to the theory. If my very social life isn't social enough to get myself to finding a better half, I'd better start doing something about it. Preparing the path for luck to make its move.

And it goes something like this (Did you just hear that said by the voice of Madonna? Yeah, me too!):
We probably need a few more ways of preparing luck than one, but let's start at the end. I don't expect luck to come in tomorrow with the first Man it could find, I am ready to allow it some time to find the best possible man for me. Let's say within a year or so. And what would I like to happen in a year or so? Well, it would be very nice to find myself on a romantic weekend in a romantic city. I always wanted to go to Vienna, but have for some reason never gotten there. So a romantic vacation in that beautiful city would really be nice. And not too much to ask for, I think, it could be doable.

So if I want to be spending a romantic weekend in Vienna in let's say May 2011, what do I need? A hotel room, for sure. I mean flights are difficult to prepare, not knowing from where one would be travelling, but a hotel room is something one can make reservations for without having to be filled in on any other information.

I could, in other words, make that reservation. For two, in a romantic getaway in Vienna, for a weekend in May 2011. That would be being quite prepared, right?