avant qu’elle parte, neuf

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at the end of november, I wanted to bring this series to an end. because the beginning of this started off entirely differently and because none of it matters anymore. but I kind of like writing these. there is a hidden story in between the lines and it’s mine only. it has been a whole year already. and a few nights ago was the first time I saw a glimpse of his name after all this time. well and alive, despite my expectations. I was so wrong back then. to think now, that sometimes I wouldn’t see him for a few days and not care has become the impossible. the way I made the transition from the old into the new, like it wasn’t a big deal is scary. horrifying. I still don’t understand how I managed that. but perhaps I didn’t.

I am dreaming of an escape. not because I feel the need to run away from anything. I just need a break. a pause button. to deal with everything I haven’t dealt with. to sleep for endless hours, to write whenever I want, to breathe fresh air. exist in the simplest possible way with as little as possible. only with him by my side. and my stories. there are so many and I want to learn how say them. how to speak to him without being supported by anything. I want to lose the feeling of having my tongue twisted when I am supposed to say something. anything. like last night. I wish I knew how to express myself in an honest, true way. without symbolics and metaphors and comparisons to other things. just explain everything the way it is. because he is not going to be patient forever and I am only wearing myself out.

I always thought it was just easier for me to be honest in writing, but even then I find myself hiding behind a veil of reconstructed reality. I cannot even begin to describe how tired I am. of living, of being. of keeping keeping on. there needs to be a break somewhere. something needs to change.

mindful mondays, five

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images from the past week:
the sunniest two days of this month / irish coffee, a pack of smokes, and a great book is my idea of a perfect afternoon / one early morning in central / three palms in kowloon city / how I start my mornings these days

on monday, I turned twenty two. there was no time for reflection. or any kind of celebration. it was a simple, easy day and I liked it that way. one of my high school friends happened to have performed the night before; an amazing show of magic, or as he called it, an evening of magic. in a way, I considered that as my birthday present and the lunch we had the following afternoon kind of sealed it. no cake, no yelling, no drama. the boy came in the evening, long after I was well fed and full with incredible mussels and chicken with spinach. simplicity was all I needed. and that perfect glass of white wine that I enjoyed while the sun was still out. chilly afternoon, SoHo, people chatting. I was more than content; turning twenty two seemed less of a big deal than I’d been thinking this whole time. maybe I’d been taking things too seriously lately. maybe.

four birthdays in april, and that’s just immediate family members. but we just simply let the days pass without enjoying them. without noticing, without taking time to notice. to stop, and to breathe. because no matter how overwhelming everything seems to be sometimes, everything is going to be alright. I wish I had more patience, I wish I had more endurance.

another week, another of this.

mindful mondays, three

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image by mary robinson.

10.13 am, I have just made myself a second cup of coffee. I used to dislike monday mornings. back then when I used to have real weekends, I would start dreading monday mornings on thursday the week before. monday mornings used to mean having to go back to school, having to wear the school uniform again. having to face all the people I never had much in common with. but things have changed a whole lot in the three years since graduation. I have created new routines in the meantime, abandoned them and then I tried to reestablish them again. I like the monday mornings now. they mean a fresh week, a new of week of to do lists and things to do. recently I’ve realized it’s easier living from monday to monday. with very short term goals and shorter lists of tasks.

but this week I would like to do more for myself –

+ reorganize my room; clean, declutter, sort. trash everything I don’t need or use or like anymore.

+ homemade hair and facial mask. I found a couple of good recipes. my eyes are puffy and with dark circles; my hair dry and sad. I constantly look tired and it shows. this needs to stop.

+ finish my 23 before 23 list.

+ complete photography portfolio and enable it online. it makes me so happy to be part of the cargo collective!

+ call grandparents, reply to emails from friends and family, mail the handwritten letter I have ready for almost a week now.

+ oh, and fibre de verre is a beautiful song to go with my morning coffee.

and so on. today is the warmest day of this year so far, with beautiful 27 degrees. it would be the perfect beach weather, if I didn’t have to be at work.

the recipe for this week

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ingredients:
3 tbs of seasoned doubts
1 l of profound love
a handful of fears
2 tbs of frustration
1 cup of anger
a string of misunderstandings
a pinch of intimacy

steps:
mix everything in a large, transparent and half broken bowl
stir constantly for 5 minutes over extreme heat
leave overnight so that heaviest ingredients settle at the bottom
add troubled butterflies for flavor

spend more time writing and reading, less time watching television, walk around, call grandparents, go the cinema, buy another set of notebooks to fill over the upcoming few months, break your favorite necklace, binge eat and gain unwanted weight, forget to check your schedule for the week.

cooking has never brought much happiness to me.