“We are tied to the ocean. And when we go back to the sea, whether it is to sail or to watch – we are going back from whence we came.” (J. F. Kennedy)
I like the grain in the above photographs. low light and low battery. silence of home. washing machine the only sound; and the dogs barking. wine in a fat big glass. windless. seawater appears to be dead but you know it’s lying. breathing and moving underneath. a world down there that the living cannot experience even if sitting turkish style at the seabed. I sit alone sipping my wine thinking if there is no place like the underwater; there’s no place like home on this earth.
home is a time but it never passes away.
something to read: one, two.
a few days ago I walked past the restaurant in capocesto we dined at many years ago in a company of friends under the summer sky. maybe there were many stars up there that night but I don’t remember. I don’t even remember what we ordered or what we drank. what I do remember is that we sat side by side, our elbows touching and we were chatting constantly. asking endless questions, babbling. our friend begged us to shut the fuck up. he would buy us anything we wanted if we managed to keep quiet for a whole hour. we were young, we were kids. our eyes widened at the idea of having anything we wanted. so we kept quiet for the entire time; ignoring everyone else’s questions and provocations for once. we won that bet that summer. and then many others. but that was the first time I thought we make such a nice team. I was nine, ten maybe. you, three years older.
in a way we make that same team today. but things are different. even though we are still friends; the careless feeling of being a child is long gone. I saw you this summer for the first time in two years. as individuals we haven’t changed that much. four years times two. two years ago we promised that would never happen again but life keeps taking us each on a separate path. I guess that’s fine. but that summer, I think of it the most. of all our memories the summer we spent sailing the adriatic sea is my favorite. my favorite summer of them all.
currently I am sitting on the top terrace in my house; looking at the dark bay. and I keep thinking in some other universe you could have been here with me. the truth is, I am okay with the way things are. I just hope we will never lose each other the way some friends do. maybe I am an idealist but I think our differences is what makes us strong. morcheeba is keeping me company tonight. and there is nothing else I wish for.
until next time.
signed oscar wilde.
I think I’m in love :: an autumn list :: sicilian granita :: florence :: water polo hour :: africa :: school reform chicago style :: waterway :: 9/11 looking into the past :: the reckoning :: farewell to summer :: one of those moments :: a glass of sicilian sunshine
things that inspired me lately.
enjoying the last few days by the seaside. my next destination being my real home; bosnia. this time there are no mixed feelings. just pure anticipation and excitement. it’s been more than two years since the last time I visited banja luka, home official hometown. I am looking forward to spending some time with my other grandmother and uncle; my wife and best friend. endless three hour bosnian coffees in kafanas; cevapi and walks around the town. it is strange that I don’t know the city, don’t know where to go, don’t know where the post office is or the major buildings. but hopefully this will change after this visit as I am intending to stay longer than the usual two or three days.
but for now I am still here. breathing in salty air, waking up to sunshine and my beautiful bay. I went for a walk around the little peninsula this afternoon. across the bridge, through the streets and alleys ending up the top of the church, which makes me feel uneasy. I ran down the stairs that lead to it, bumping into the people once I got down. I laughed out loud at the beauty that revealed itself before me. the seawater was particularly calm and still, sunset perfectly reflected on its surface. I walked far beyond the fire station at the end of the town centre; sitting quietly by the water, my legs swaying in rhythm with the waves created by the passing boats. I could feel the warmth on my skin; the gold in my hair. and I just sat there quietly. enjoying the silence and the solitude of the moment. fresh salty air hitting my lungs every time I took a deep breath. I wet my hair with my fingertips; it smells of sea and end of summer now.
I think I am ready for the fall.
I am not sleeping well. I am not sleeping at all. I had to be reminded of my own writing style in order to find my own words. to get them all back. somehow everything feels reversed as if I am going back in time my mindset slipping back into what it used to be. only because of a couple of sentences. one fucking message. for someone who doesn’t have a problem with leaving people behind I am spending too much time with you on my mind. to the left, to the left. I wish I was in new york city. in washington dc. in san francisco. in beijing. in melbourne. in auckland. in tokyo. in bangkok. in dubai. in cairo. in istanbul. in nairobi. in cape town. in paris. in barcelona. in the middle of the oceans. places just pop up in my mind and I want to transfer myself. sort of like jumper. if I could chose any super power it would be the ability to go anywhere at any time. right now I can’t even understand that I was in one place for a year and a half. a year and a half. the longest period of time in my entire life that I didn’t travel anywhere. you must not know about me, you must not know about me. it has gotten colder over night and but I still swam in the bay today. played tennis at back of the house; shot some nice photographs; watered my grandmother’s garden. I am split between wanting to leave here tomorrow and staying forever. how to be everywhere at the same time?
forty five days.
rogoznica, croatia. our little town; the bay. everything is here. everything is preserved in these trees, the sea and stones. our childhood; my childhood. walking around the town, taking photographs, writing. awake at nine every day; half an hour on the terrace. then I descend down to my grandparents’ apartment. grandmother and I have a cup of coffee; a couple of cigarettes. we talk about everything and nothing. I help with little things around the house. laundry; rubbish bins; groceries. during the day I swim, walk up and down the hill, drink coffee with friends and neighbors, take afternoon naps, tan; relax. everything sinks deep in to my memory; old memories surface. I remember my injuries, experiences and games we played. I remember every stone, every pebble, every corner, every meter of the seabed; everything is just as we left it. nothing has changed yet we are older.
then I discovered an old tennis racquet, started playing every evening against the back of the house. walks to the marina and around the old town. visits to the open sea, listening to the waves and feeling salty air on my skin. my hair dry and light. my skin soft and dark. an afternoon in capostesto, photographs. feeling lonely but grateful. exploring streets that I know so well. watching the sunset, passing by the restaurant where many years ago m and I had to keep quiet, I passed by the tennis courts feeling a slight pinch at heart, walking through the playground in the centre where I used to swing as a three year old. but the swings are not there anymore.
old friends came for a visit as well. a couple of beautiful nights with the two of them; incredible seafood, plenty of wine. full moon, sky full of stars. we drove to trogir and on our way back I leaned my head back and watched the night sky through the open cabrio roof. music playing, my hair flying in all directions, warm air, soft scent of pines. a couple of days of thunders, rain and lightning. then the weather changed from summer to autumn over night. I took out warm blankets and sleeping the next morning. daylight lasts only until seven.
summer ends here and begins somewhere else.
part one, part two.