Loving Vincent

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.

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The waves of life

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. 

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Patti Smith and my sickbed

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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.

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The reconciliation – a story about Lübeck

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So here I am, sitting in a cafe located in the Old Town of Lübeck, watching the people pass by, overhearing a language I have no knowledge of. Thinking. It is the result of a spontaneous act. Lübeck is not an island associated with fabulous sunset scenes, the deep sound of waves, and the wind that blows gently on the beaches in half-darkness. It is not like that. 

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The dream

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A few years ago, I came across a postcard. The white cave houses surrounded by the turquoise blue sea, the glories of the blue domed church on the top of the cliff, and the beautiful sunset over the bay. Thrilled. It is a dream, is it not. A voice was whispering, let me be there, please. Let me feel the dream. It was when the longing started, so overwhelming that it hurt sometimes. 

Breathing deeply, I am attempting to absorb the scenes, and the magic. 

Bewildered, is it a dream? That voice is returning, an endless dream it says, it will embrace you, always. 

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With love,

Isabelle ❤️

Santorini Greece,  July 2018