No windows needed

They both board the train leaving at 6:52am
Colors barely there, outside the glass windows, the sun had not colored the village yet
But traces of green were still there.
Endless fields and trees that covered almost all of the surface under the train.
Almost, were the houses and red bricked roofs and many many windows
All of this, seen through the windows on the train they boarded today
But somehow they’ve only managed to look at each other. There did not seem to be any reason for them to look anywhere else.
Besides, he was her green, earthy nature.
And she was him home, red bricked roof and long glass windows.
And what a comfort it was, to not need any windows to see the view.


What it means to stand

and as I passed her, walking

and he passed me, running

and another passed him, flying

I knew this city of love wouldn’t see love if it hit it right in the face, it would be too busy hurrying to the next bus.

But here you are, in front of me, and for a second, it was almost as if we were the only two people in the world who were just standing.


Read me if you want to know the truth

For as long as I could remember, two things have always been clear to me:

I hated cold weather, and I cherished (a little more than recommended at a young age) the time I had to myself.
Flash forward to my present; I am currently living in a city where gray is pretty much a state of mind, and I still have a lot of time myself (a little too much for my liking).

When I was around 17 years old, I knew that I would be better than fine, off by myself somewhere not too far from home, but not closer than a 5 hour long flight.
For a long period of time, I saw happiness as a future where I go to work every day and come back to a comfy, aesthetically-pleasing, big beige rug wearing, vanilla-candle-smelling appartment, with windows that stretched from the ceiling to the floor, that had curtains that were so thin they were practically invisible, because the sun should come in, it’s rude to expect it to knock first.
The windows would look out to the city, because I have always been a semi-city girl; albeit I meant a SUNNY city, not 50 shades very, very dark grays and blues. I’m not a Starbucks cup hoarder kind of city girl, but I like things messy and busy, and I like the center of things, and feeling like “this” is where things are happening, and that my story fits somewhere in between.
I really did believe it down to my core, it was what happiness felt like.
And I’ve accumulated this truth and sworn by it for years, but the thing about this reality is that the truth will change, and you’ll either feel it changing gradually, or you’ll have an epiphany at midnight a year later. A little bit of both happened to me, so here I write, with every intention of sharing my truth, for now.
It was only in the absence of love, that I finally knew that I was never truly happy before feeling it.
This is non-intentionally depressing, excusez-moi.
But it is in the absence of you, my love, that I feel the difference,
of everything that was ever mammoth
Now a little smaller than a pebble I can hold in my hand
That I can throw far into the water
with the assurance that it would sink down to the bottom of the ocean along with the rest of the rocks thrown by everyone that has ever been thrown off guard by a love so new, and so pure that it swept them right off their feet.

It clicked, when I heard rainfall hit the pavements near my building,

the drops making little noises caressing my window.

And I knew I never liked gray skies, and rainfall even less

but I met you in my first winter, and somehow your smell got mixed in with the rain and now I can’t tell the difference.

And now the cold felt familiar, because I knew that when everything became cold for the first time, everything else in my life was warm.

I’ve loved, and I’ve felt, and that is my truth,

so you’ll find me in winter,

waiting for the wind to lead me back to you.

Talking to the moon

If you’ve ever been on a plane you know,

there’s a moment after the plane rises up for takeoff loudly, when it reaches what resembles “silence” that will accompany you throughout the flight, sort of like white noise that is still quite loud, but that your mind adjusts to as “plane noise”. Eventually becoming the standard “silence above clouds”, and endless ‘humm’ that only stops after the engine turns off.

I look out the little oval window on my left and the moon looks right back at me, our only companion besides said ‘humm’, floating near my window, as if to light the pages well enough for me to read my book, as if to read the book with me. As if to give me a sense of safety, a few kilometers off ground and sea, but safety in a glow soft enough for me to comfortably read and pretend like I am not at cloud-level right now.

It is almost as if the moon shows me that I can trust it.

Can I talk to you? And if I could, would you listen?

Have many people spoken to you before?

You are safe to talk to. Of all the things that have changed in my life, you remain the same. I remember looking at you years ago in a different place. You looked the same way you look now, as if you haven’t aged a day.

My loved ones are far but at least I know they can talk to you too, because you are there, just as you are here.

Can you send them love from me? and tell them that I miss them.

Tell them that even when we are miles apart, at least we have you to share.




On life and its sense of humor

It is moments like these, when I’m waiting for the train to arrive at 10:30pm on a Friday night.
It’s mid-August in Paris and it’s funny to see everyone flee the city for a month. For a moment the only thing I could hear are escalators in an endless loop, and nearby trains slowing down to their halt.
It’s the only thing I can hear now that everyone’s gone, and how funny Paris is on a Friday night underground.
It’s a little less funny without you around to fill the silence.
No one’s here anymore. It’s actually quiet for a change.
You’re not here either, but it would’ve been funnier if you were, you would’ve said something by now and kept me company, it’s a change from the trains, their presence is often loud. But here I write you right under Paris. I can hear them up there, their heels hitting the rocks on the pavements. I hear them dancing together, their swayed footsteps travels all the way down to me, waiting for my train, under glowing Paris, now silent down here.
It’s all too funny, how I miss hands that were never mine to begin with, and a face I knew I was bound to leave soon.
Isn’t it funny? How sometimes we’re certain we know the end of the story, but we pretend not to know what’s coming and make sure to read every word, just because we like the way the pages feel under our fingers?
Are we always bound to write to lovers without ever being in their arms?
Well here you go my love, another letter I place in your hand instead of mine. I write surrounded by everything but you, because life is funny that way, but here we are, and it’s funny to see that none of us are laughing.

Adults, children, and the loss of freedom in between

Walking back to my room today after having spent the entire day doing things that I had to do because sometimes you simply Have to do things, not because you want to, but because you are obliged to; and getting boring, chiant, très chiant things done.
To my unfortunately unlucky current situation, I am caught in somewhat if an annoying turn of events.
I do not wish upon you, dear reader, to get to a point in your stay in another country where all of your contracts end almost in the same period of time.
You see, you absolutely need a visa for the work contract, and you certainly need a house for the visa, but you also are in desperate need of a work contract for the house. It’s like a viscous cycle of things you need and you can’t have because you need to provide something else that you don’t have. And dealing with either one of all of these situations has brought a severe pain in my ass.
So I’ve spent my week gathering information and documents and papers and signatures and rejection emails because I collect them like tokens nowadays.
Juggling all of this in my head, I am halted by a loud and startling Bang coming a couple of inches away from me. My heart literally skips a beat and I look at the person wide eyed as the bangs became louder and more frequent.
I spot a little girl next to me, very loudly stomping her feet against a metal ramp.
The girl gape-smiles, flaunting her teeth, half present half not. She’s got a little pony tail and is literally a few inches off the ground, she looked about 4 years old.
Four years of age and this girl clomped her feet left and right to produce thunderstorms and manage an entire orchestra.
She does not see the people around her yet. This was the point when I knew I could finally say I’d seen it with my own eyes;
Absolute carefree oblivion of a soul that has yet to know what another’s judgment looks like, and what startling or annoying a person feels like.
Us “grown ups”, doing grown up things, making grown up decisions and dealing with other grown ups, constantly judge, and are judged. No matter how open minded you say you are, and how little you think you criticize, you will always judge a 30 year old woman stomping her feet on a metal ramp much harsher than you would a 5 year old child.
How great must it have felt to be able to make loud, uncoordinated and out of tune music everyone could clearly hear, without fearing other people’s judgement.
She did not own anything that is hers except for her little body, and she is freer than people with their own houses and things, and is completely unaware of it.
Today, she is free from judgement, and that is a kind of freedom you should be lucky to have.

Life brings 10 surprises, and here’s what they are (so far)

There are things that surprise us, living breathing human beings. As we are thinkers, the ones with large brains and the constant urge to find logical reasoning and understanding behind all of what life pushes our way; unfortunately to our desired state of comfort and know-it-all-ness, there are things that escape our constant grasp for answers. These are the things that seep through our fingers, they are what I’d like to call, life’s 10 surprises.

You grow up thinking “I will understand”.
I will understand what this life means,
I will get it, when I’m older, I will know.
I don’t know if this thought had ever crossed your busy mind, but when I was young(er), it was difficult for me to imagine that the adults in my life ever had a childhood, or were ever young and experimenting, and faced trial and many errors, as the adults in my life had usually always set a very square, well-cut example for me to follow.
Were they ever really young? My 7 year old self thought to herself (yes, self reflection is very important, it’s never too early to start).
Did they ever have hands as small as mine? Maybe..
As dirty as mine? … probably not.
And I’ll let you in on the first surprise of the 10:
1. At some point you realize that nearly all of the adults in your life were young once, and time is the only factor separating you from being them.
I used to think that many of the grown-ups in my life were flawless, but it turns out that they too, were rebels, and they did not have it together at some point, and what they show now is the result of years of practice.
You think you understand how the world works until it starts showing you surprises, and starts unveiling a cloak that seemed to always be up, as a child.
There is no telling where you will end up, and who you will meet, and that’s about the greatest gift you will get, along with other less pleasing surprises.
Here are some key little things that I have learned so far, if you’d like some free insight. Let me reveal to you the surprises the cloak has been hiding (for me, at-least)
2. Surprises are both good and not so good, and your reaction to both will dictate your general state of being. Your homeostatis if you will.
3. Do not fear change. You will not only change your environment, your work, your friends, but you will also feel yourself changing. Surprise: at some point, you will crave change.
4. Keep your family close, their kind of love is difficult to find. Surprise: not everyone has pure intentions, no one will ever love you quite the same way your birthgivers do.
5. Do the things you want to do, even if you’re afraid of them/of what people will think. You’ve probably read this in a relatable post, but do it (unless it is harmful for you and others, if that’s the case, then don’t.) Surprise: there are countless things to be afraid of, but nothing is scarier than fear. Learn how to manage it and you will be free.
6. Give as much as you can, with no expectation in return, this is a free source of happiness. Be helpful to others, be kind and serve when needed, there is no shame in that. Complement when you see something good, when you see a spark in a person, let them know about it. Surprise: giving may feel better than receiving!
7. Mental health is as important as physical health. Take care of you, concentrate on yourself and self-reflect constantly. Enjoy being able to have free time to yourself before this time is taken away by other responsibilities and people and children and all of life’s ruckus. Surprise: we are much more complicated than we’d like to admit. Surprise 2.0: most human beings are just as complicated, and may be going through a similar mental struggle. We are not alone, we just think we are.
8. The love you know now may surprise you down the line. You may see love as something specific at some point in your life, but this may change, and that is okay. You may learn that love comes in different mediums, and is expressed differently depending on the people you know, and the depth of love itself. Surprise: of all the real, tangible things in your life, love is the most real, genuine thing you can experience.
9. Be open minded, do not close off people or experiences just because you are convinced that you normally would not do them. Surprise: people, themselves.
10. (Yes that makes 11, surprise!) Life can be mundane sometimes. Repetitive, boring in its monotony, quiet, loud, uncomfortable, difficult to deal with, stress inducing, tiring, but life is also all of these opposites. It is not summed up in one day, or in one sentence, or in 10 surprises. Life leaves you with no words to express, it leaves you with feelings you cannot write on paper. It leaves you with images and song, and dance, and touch, and a lot of laughter, and a lot of sadness. It is both at the same time. It is loss and gain, of people and experiences and time. We are all going to leave at some point, many of the people we know have left us already, so it’s good to remember that surprises, whether good or bad, happen, and the biggest surprise of them all is life, itself.