The Return

It happened.

For the first time in the last couple of years, I returned home happily.

Recalling all those returns when my head was resting on the little window of the plane, looking hopelessly to all the lights and glitter disappearing underneath and sighing... Thinking about what I have been missing and how I have been losing all my days among grey buildings and silent puppets... Regretting every opportunity lost, every risk not taken in hesitation...

For the first time in years, I was relieved to get back home. Not at all fascinated by the lights, nor worried about distancing from the glamorous life...

Not that it is all perfectly planned now, nor I feel much secure or determined. But it's something else, more than I can explain... More of a teenager feeling - that I'm not used to - or of an excitement of heart trembling out of joy.

The touch of a hand, the tenderness of a kiss, the shine on a small teardrop... 
Momentary but soothing...
Hushing and putting me to sleep...

Story

I believe there are some moments in life which make you feel everything's in order. At these moments you don't have to worry about what's gonna happen next, or how things will eventually turn up in the end. It is kind of a relief not to know how "your story" will finish then.

...And that makes you feel positive towards everything that come across your way. The wisest thing to do simply becomes just waiting and letting time pass peacefully.

Then I feel "my story" will go on forever, as if it's never gonna end. All that will happen along the course of it will be so important to remember, or so trivial to care about at the same time. Because all that matters will be the course itself; the course that takes you from one point to another...

Hands Towards Heaven

I left my dream in a hotel room drawer;
I sailed my hope to the sea in a paper boat made of two sheets;
I painted my memories in my own colour to the streets I passed and walls I touched ...
One day, if I find that drawer empty in that hotel room,
If the sea doesn't bring my paper boat back,
Or if the streets and walls are all paintless when I return,
Does it matter?

When my hands are towards heaven,
My forehead on the bar counter,
We are so strong that we can blow off all the roofs,
Ended up in Heaven
Where angels cry
And all is forgiven...

When my hands are up in the air,
Already drunk,
And life is meaningless,
Who cares?...

The night is so beautiful,
You are like the night
And I am a winner again...

Point of Fulcrum

"There comes a time in each life like a point of fulcrum. At that time you must accept yourself. It is not any more what you will become. It is what you are and always will be."

from "The Magus" by John Fowles (1966)

Destiny Is Hard To Predict

"Destiny is hard to predict"...

That was a message displayed on my phone screen. I didn't care much until I really figured it out once thing's got little bit more solid.

The other day I was being defined as either of the following: "my patient", "my friend", "my date" and "my destiny"...

One day you desperately look for a way out through boredom and find a better way for your life to follow. The next day it's much easier to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Shall I call this the effect of destiny?

The Moss

Even though you know that a new era is about to begin, you feel the remains of yesterday still clinging onto you.

It's like walking out of the water from a mossy lake covered in moss sticking to your body. You can't get rid of the moss how hard you try to scrub it out of your body. The sticky touch of the plants, the slicky feeling it creates on your skin, the sensation of the dirtiness.... This makes you want to go back in the water and clean yourself with a deep dive. But, you know it quite well that the lake is not your home. A deep dive would take you further down to a world that would drown you eventually. Nevertheless, you sense that you will dry out in the sun if you go out to earth as well.

So, let the moss cling to you for now. Let the slick touch stay on your skin... For you will never get out that sticky, slicky sensation even if all the moss dries out and falls apart...