I went on a treasure hunt in the blue-turquoise Aegean Sea.
Neither for diamonds, nor for gold coins left by the pirates.
I longed to bring with me a cream white shell to my home in the far north.
The one that might’ve been journeying for thousands of years and then settled in The Aegean Sea.
Through the crystal clear water, I searched among countless pebbles in purple and grey.
The sea sparkled in the sunlight, and the waves moved gently in the summer breeze.
No shells in sight.
But who were these lovely creatures circling around and caressing my tired feet?
Deep down in the water, the tiny fish were playing hide and seek.
Oh dear fish, have you seen a lonely cream white shell flowing through the waves? The one that longs for a home in the far north…
26 July 2019 Thassos, Greece ❤️
I do not own a jewellery box, and have not had the desire to acquire one. Not yet.
“If you were left on a deserted island for a month, what would you bring with you?” The little prince looks at me. Continue reading “My wedding ring”
“I’ll die“, said Robin, “I’ll die if they don’t have that dress ready.”
Tricks, from Alice Munro´s collection Runaway, opens with Robin´s rather dramatic announcement, which immediately draws the reader´s attention to the item, “that dress”.
Continue reading “Tricks”
Sitting in the cinema hall, with the lights turned off, I have been thrown into the life Vincent Van Gogh lived in Hague, Paris, Arles and Auvers-sur-Oise more than a century ago. The mind is struggling to follow the plotline; it is lured into every scene that makes the heart tremble. The thoughts are wandering from Starry Night over The Rhone to Café Terrace in Arles on a September night in 1888, and from The Yellow House where Van Gogh shared rooms with his painter friend Paul Gaugin to Wheatfield with Crows, which is believed to have been painted shortly before his tragic death. A story about Vincent is taking shape, slowly, in my mind, and in my heart.
Continue reading “Loving Vincent”
On a cold winter day, she was born in the city of Shanghai. It was snowing, and snowing, as if it would never come to an end. Her dad, looking out of the window, absorbed in his thoughts. It rarely snows here, must be a meaning hidden in the magic of this beautiful moment, so he thought.
Continue reading “A dreamy soul”
What is it? The mind is attempting to distinguish the noise. The sound of rain hitting the window in a consistent rhythm, it is pouring out there. A few drops falling on my cheeks, I turn away and refuse to close the window properly. I must catch up before the dream turning into fragments.
Continue reading “The waves of life”
I crawled into a sickbed and was then wheeled to a hospital room where I would be waiting to take a few tests. It was quite embarrassing as I assessed my health condition to be stable. I was wasting the resource that could be useful and even crucial to genuine patients. A category I did not consider myself belonging to.
Continue reading “Patti Smith and my sickbed”