The beauty of life
the beauty of my life
begins after 3 p.m.
2008/06/22
2008/06/11
the season of hallucinations
Summer. It's already here. Heavy and golden, like honey. In the evening the air has the smell of the warm season of year, the space waves gently above the blocks. If one squints for a moment, it may seem, that it's the Greece flag stuck to this white superstructure, luminous on the background of dusk that I see from my window. But still, the last year's journey to the olive orchards and little islands with white and blue towns was only a short dream which might have never come to me anyway, which is possible as I've been having various states of consciousness lately.
Like on previous Monday, in a streetcar, when I hung holding to a yellow, sticky tube, and when I was roused, I was three stops farther and a woman was taking me out. She had dark hair and she held my shaking hand. She told me to drink some water and have a rest. And she kept holding my hand. There was a young man as well, and I told both of them how I was feeling, and about the exam I was taking in thirty minutes and couldn't be late, and about my tram stop that I'd missed, and... Rest. Drink. Breathe. I did everything they told me to. And it was one of the most beautiful moments, from all of the moments of the world that I took part in, because it was motherly, friendly and warm. On a bright, Monday morning. Just like that.
For the rest of the day I moped around with a part of me still faint, still sitting on that bench on the Koszykowa street, shaking, and happy. Happy in a way that probably makes me and my life pretty pathetic.
Like on previous Monday, in a streetcar, when I hung holding to a yellow, sticky tube, and when I was roused, I was three stops farther and a woman was taking me out. She had dark hair and she held my shaking hand. She told me to drink some water and have a rest. And she kept holding my hand. There was a young man as well, and I told both of them how I was feeling, and about the exam I was taking in thirty minutes and couldn't be late, and about my tram stop that I'd missed, and... Rest. Drink. Breathe. I did everything they told me to. And it was one of the most beautiful moments, from all of the moments of the world that I took part in, because it was motherly, friendly and warm. On a bright, Monday morning. Just like that.
For the rest of the day I moped around with a part of me still faint, still sitting on that bench on the Koszykowa street, shaking, and happy. Happy in a way that probably makes me and my life pretty pathetic.
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