Things of Life

My style... to saunter... here, there, to absorb the essence of things seen... If so, thoughts are arranging themselves like books in a bookshelf, on categories. An internal order develops, and there, there, in that breathing space I have created, I can sense, perhaps, some scattered seeds, and concentrate on the unseen...

Flowers in bloom, and waaay too hot already... The woman with blue fan is looking at the man across, and entertains secret desires.  She hides her gaze behind her fluttering fan. She has love, but can she want  something she already has...? She wants something she does not have...  Love and desire normally meet, she knows; but things may shift in time.  Desire   gets blended in love, and may eventually melt and be forgotten...  Unlike love, it's fugitive like the flutter of her fan.  It's hardly contained, and often enticed by otherness...

In viața, trăirile sunt manifestări firave ce te năucesc puțin. N-ar parea firave in momentul lor, dar sunt. Când se întâmplă, te ridica de pe solul plat si prăfuit al existenței, dar vin si cu o frustrare muta, ca sunt prea trecatoare si nestatornice, si nu sunt capabile de atâta transformare. Coborându-te, ai ceva senzație de gol.  Faptele insa, deși nu au șarmul unei trăiri, si uneori stângace, te marchează altfel. Sunt ca un stâlp ce se infige la un moment dat in drumul tău, poate ți-l si schimba, te ghidează, te modelează.  Trăirile si faptele se întâlnesc uneori pe drum, se țin de mana, se îmbrățișează, alteori merg separat... 

I was doing my regular evening walk in the neighborhood, when three boys on scooters turned a corner and were passing by like a storm. All of a sudden, one of them, about my son's age, deviated from his path and came straight to me as if he knew me for years. An all smiling face with freckled cheeks, curly bangs, and glasses, asking exuberantly for hi 5...  Oookaay... hi 5 ✋... alright... dude... Then he rejoined his group and gone he was. I had an urge to look in the mirror after he treated me like one of his... Heart of a kid... Not being afraid to interact with strangers. Refreshingly human, natural, normal... He reactivated something in me I may have forgotten, and I was a kid too, as if just going in the street to have fun with my buddies. And it was wonderful! Especially since these days there is more talk about Resurrection...   

One thing I am passionate about is order. Each thing to have its place. It sounds like the title of an interior decoration book I browsed through one time and enjoyed, but now I can no longer find. Order... from my mom, no doubt. But not quite like her. She would irritate me with her exaggerated standards when I was growing up. Like... a certain object on a table, why is there...? Just got home, relax...  A space needs to be in order, yet to feel lived in. A scarf or a robe thrown on a chair does not bother me-- they are poetic reminders that life is there. The same with a cup, a book, on a table, or a couple of dishes still unwashed in the sink. In other words, a thing needs to have its own proper place, but it's ok for it to be somewhere else on occasion because... hey, I am using it, I live. And not in a show room. It's peaceful to know that the thing has its place and I will take it there when I find the energy.  I extrapolate: feelings, actions, in their place; food, task...

Daffidd Po a comentat la scrierea precedenta ca am făcut poezie din ceva rece. Poate reușesc sa fac si din ce urmează, ca in fond poezia e o forma de supraviețuire si sănătate mintala... Pe o porțiune mica de drum, limita de viteza e 35 mile/ora. Restul... 45+. Treceam cam grabita de la un magazin unde returnasem ceva, sa mai reglez din conturi. Aveam in cap formularul de asigurare pe care trebuia să-l completez sa mai recuperez ceva după un eveniment nefast de cu o zi înainte. Plus, sa fac bagajele la 4 persoane, cu deplasarea de Paști... Îmi arunc ochii la vitezometru... oooooh... eram considerabil peste, sa mai calc frâna... Dar ce, ca sirenele roșii si albastre erau deja agitate in fundul meu. Ăștia stau pitiți... doar-doar trece vreun delincvent... Trage pe dreapta... 47 la ora... actele... Unde a pus bărbatul actele mașinii...? Eu doar conduc, ce știu eu de acte...? In fine, le-am găsit, erau puse foarte frumos de fapt... Spre final, polițistul o mai îndulcește și-mi explica ...