Monday 25 February 2013

Soap Bubbles of Memories


It's all coming back to me.
The scent of the trees
that warm feeling in the cold -
when I looked around,
and the scenery was a masterpiece - frozen in my mind.
A deaf moment when I can only see us together back then.
But I can't hear anything.

A scene from the past that became silent -
brought to a lonely present dance.
A present cut into pieces
that don't make sense when put together -
with recent pool parties, laughter and tears.
A far away trip, castles, wine, cheese and sunshine.
Friendly strangers killing cockroaches on the street,
a pub nearby.
Floating soap bubbles that steal my heart.

I finally hear your voice in my head - your accent.
Remember that long bus ride in the middle of the night?
My living room so empty right now,
our disgraceful song:
"boom boom boom lets go back to my room..."
How did we go from Pablo Neruda to that?
Or from dreams to reality?
Or from knowing each other the way we used to,
to almost strangers?
From infinite possibilities
to accepting life as it comes?
From being young,
and waking up old one day -
full of half stories -
of what could have been.

Tuesday 5 February 2013

Moving & Enrooted


Many years later things have changed completely. Dreams left behind, some have dissolved in reality, forgotten about, or simply left in the past. I still get inspired by that 19 year old girl, falling in love with a city, with a boy, with winter in February.

So many chances ahead of them. He "rooted" in one place, with very deep roots. She - in love with the world, and its possibilities and impossibilities, a dreamer, while he had both his feet on the ground - or perhaps she didn't know him at all.

Limelight's gone. That place, that night, years behind.

Edinburgh has a new scent now, new stories have replaced theirs. When she shuts her eyes, she can't remember the trip but she can still feel it.

She wonders where the story ends. It never seems to end. It goes on whenever she closes her eyes, smells that old perfume... What's real anyway? Who can tell for sure that reality isn't what happens when we are actually dreaming? Who can tell for sure that the past is left behind forever, and the present is happening right now?

What are dreams, memories, feelings? The beginning, the end of Juliet and Daniel's story. Each and every moment, word, misunderstanding, whatever brought them together and set them apart.

The stars, the songs, vanished places, magic, theater plays, day trips, photographs that tell no story. Double deck buses and escalators frozen in time, and broken into pieces - put together again when I remember that 19 year old girl and that 17 year old boy.

Two different people nowadays, who sometimes say hello to each other.

And they know their story was two different stories. They know that for Daniel, she was a pretty girl, who inspired his poetry, whose lips he wanted to kiss, whose perfect body he wanted to touch.

For Juliet, he was a possibility of an enchanted prince on a white horse, whose love for her would last forever. It would never fade away. It was vaster than the world. The possibility of his love was the courage she took to get lost in the world, where she looks for her roots.

They lived two different stories together many, many, many years ago.

Followers