Invisible Paths
22 January 2006
pure and clear
this weekend, to be exact 4 hours ago, I heard the most impactful words I have heard in a long time: "You are doing the right thing". That, out of the mouth of the person I love, considering that the "thing" I am doing will add some 12 months to our separation, completed 48 hours of pure happiness. After those words he disappeared through passport control, and I left the airport again.
He has always known it, always been there, through all the crazy things I might have done since that clear and ice-cold day in February 4 years ago, patiently waiting for me to grow up a bit. Waiting from afar most of the time, but I know we have always been close. Now everytime closer. I would not believe our story if I was not living it.
Grazie... mille grazie.
He has always known it, always been there, through all the crazy things I might have done since that clear and ice-cold day in February 4 years ago, patiently waiting for me to grow up a bit. Waiting from afar most of the time, but I know we have always been close. Now everytime closer. I would not believe our story if I was not living it.
Grazie... mille grazie.
20 January 2006
fog
it enveloped the bridge completely. On my bicycle, slowly pedaling, I knew I was approaching the bridge, because I had done hundreds of times before, in sunlight, clear nights, snow. Now nothing guiding me but the yellow line, which separates the street from the bicycle path. And the noises, rare in that late hour anyway, swallowed, muffled, muted. Only the sound of the chain, a rythmic, anorganic whispering. I could make out a chain of lights, orange, slowly fading in the distance, but the usual glow of the parliament failed to warm the darkness.
As I approached home, the proximity of buildings with warm windows evicted the gray mass, and cars were too close and real for any separation to be left to me. Brutality of colours and contours again, so real, and my bicycle's noise was not the only one anymore. After carefully locking the bicycle to the railing in front of our house, after unlocking the door, I was back in the warm, comfortable place I know. Back to where I can judge properly, where noise is what I know it to be, colours do not deceive me, and contours reveal themselves.
I will join the Member Committee of AIESEC in Colombia. Six months from now, I will have settled down in Bogotá.
Vuelvo!!!!
As I approached home, the proximity of buildings with warm windows evicted the gray mass, and cars were too close and real for any separation to be left to me. Brutality of colours and contours again, so real, and my bicycle's noise was not the only one anymore. After carefully locking the bicycle to the railing in front of our house, after unlocking the door, I was back in the warm, comfortable place I know. Back to where I can judge properly, where noise is what I know it to be, colours do not deceive me, and contours reveal themselves.
I will join the Member Committee of AIESEC in Colombia. Six months from now, I will have settled down in Bogotá.
Vuelvo!!!!
08 January 2006
every day.
"Vision without action is merely a dream. Action without vision just passes the time. Vision with action can change the world."
Joel Barker
(...some of you will know where I got this from...)
Joel Barker
(...some of you will know where I got this from...)
07 January 2006
warm, calm, and?
when i think back a few years, I find that I had similar feelings to now, during Winter/Spring of my first year in London. Back then I was waiting for that acceptance or rejection letter from LSE, at the same time working without real breaks on many different projects like mentoring in a south London technology college, Gap, and of course my work for John Massey.
now the situation is similar. Yes, I have applied, and yes, I do want what I have applied for, but I am now just waiting, can do nothing but wait, and at the same time hunt my projects around here. it must be this combination of eternally being busy and not knowing what will happen five months down the line which plunges me head first into this grey puddle of something strange. it must be this what makes me feel so restless, doubtful, self-destructive. it must be from where this slowly suffocating feeling of dissatisfaction comes.
It is this waiting for decisions on applications, this constant thinking in ifs and whens, the omnipresent maybes, an incessant loop.
hey, where is my sense of adventure? times have never been more pulsating, and there are ample reasons to count myself to the privileged. oh, and i am!
Maybe developing a cold after a wonderful vacation spanning my family, Albe's family, Germany, Italy, and Switzerland, rain and sun and snow, flat river banks, flat space stretching from the Alpes to Milano, bizarre mountain tops covered with ice, also contributes. Tiredness from feeling ill has never helped anyone in situations of insecurity.
this weekend of calm, reflection, hot lemon, a hot bath full of bubbles and my feet on the radiator as I write is sure to help me take a step out of this grey strangeness.
back in London it worked out to the fullest, after that anxious period of grey the acceptance letter arrived and I lived the three best years of my life.
now the situation is similar. Yes, I have applied, and yes, I do want what I have applied for, but I am now just waiting, can do nothing but wait, and at the same time hunt my projects around here. it must be this combination of eternally being busy and not knowing what will happen five months down the line which plunges me head first into this grey puddle of something strange. it must be this what makes me feel so restless, doubtful, self-destructive. it must be from where this slowly suffocating feeling of dissatisfaction comes.
It is this waiting for decisions on applications, this constant thinking in ifs and whens, the omnipresent maybes, an incessant loop.
hey, where is my sense of adventure? times have never been more pulsating, and there are ample reasons to count myself to the privileged. oh, and i am!
Maybe developing a cold after a wonderful vacation spanning my family, Albe's family, Germany, Italy, and Switzerland, rain and sun and snow, flat river banks, flat space stretching from the Alpes to Milano, bizarre mountain tops covered with ice, also contributes. Tiredness from feeling ill has never helped anyone in situations of insecurity.
this weekend of calm, reflection, hot lemon, a hot bath full of bubbles and my feet on the radiator as I write is sure to help me take a step out of this grey strangeness.
back in London it worked out to the fullest, after that anxious period of grey the acceptance letter arrived and I lived the three best years of my life.
