Learn to eat breakfast again. Cook coffee on the stove every morning. Read and read a lot. Spend time at home; in silence and solitude. Go for walks whenever you can. Cook soups and bake zucchini bread. Purge your living space. Hang the tealights again. Replace all the light bulbs around the apartment; winter is going be dark enough just by itself. Pre-order Janet Fitch’s upcoming book. Drink copious amounts of ginger tea. Return to the sea. Write about the cities you’ve been to. Write. You are ready. Leave your phone on airplane mode. Travel: book more flights, jump on a train, just go. Eat less, drink less. Improve your sleeping habits. Say no more often. Practice mindfulness (you haven’t been and it shows). Feel what you need to feel; then let it go.
Listened to thesethreesongs on repeat. Read a lot. More than usually, that is. Drank wine in beer gardens. Missed another flight. Booked a different one. Instead of three weeks, I spent ten days at home by the sea and felt grateful every single day. Slept outside on the terrace under the stars every night. Swam in the bay. Swam in the open sea. Cooked coffee on the stove in dzezva. More often, it’d be maman who’d do it for me. For some reason, hers is always better. Drank espressos strong as hell from tiny cups with Almodovar images on them. Spent a morning in Split. A morning in Zagreb. A weekend away from Prague when things looked very positive but they weren’t. Drank flavored water: watermelon, mint, and basil. Drank way too much coffee. Stopped smoking cigarettes for a while then started again. Came to a realization that the circle of people around me is too wide and that I need to narrow it down. A self-preservation thing of sorts. Went to of Montreal with a special someone. Wrote lists of things I felt grateful for at my corner coffee shop. Some mornings I’d wake up to different messages: from the sunshine, from my barista (the coffee is waiting for you!), from friends across the globe, from First Love, from the one I left behind. This month, more than any other, I’d been reminded that I am not alone. At all. It doesn’t matter what he used to say anymore. Some nights, I’d stay wide awake until 5.30 am, not being able to sleep. Some nights, I wouldn’t sleep at all. Others, I’d be under covers at nine. Spent a few days waiting around hospitals. When he was there, it was indefinitely easier and I am grateful that he refused to leave me alone. Wrote more lists of things. Mostly to soothe my mind. To feel the ground under my feet. To be reminded that I am a lioness.
Bought raspberries, blueberries, and blackberries. Played tennis twice in one week. Wrote an entry to an on-going dictionary collection; Stardust. Had breakfast on Sunday with K. In fact, we had two breakfasts: at Coffee room and Café Jen. Spent my first weekend in Prague after two months. Had coffee with B. Slept. Three loads of laundry. Made and brought breakfast and lunch to work four days in a row; new personal record. Cooked broccoli, spinach, asparagus, and chickpeas. My favorite things. Formed a new ritual: daily espresso at the Wine Food Market. Spoke on the phone with the best friend in Bosnia for over an hour. One week until I am back in my birth town. Two days until seaside, again. Started reading Dějiny Světla. Started watching The Wire again. Walked a lot. Had drinks with a friend from elementary; walked home in daylight on a Saturday morning. Booked flights from Zagreb. Booked a second trip to Berlin. Bought a bus ticket to Brno. Escapism. Took hundreds of new images but did not edit the photos from Copenhagen, Berlin or Rome yet. Maybe this month. Spent three days with dad in Prague. Drank gin with mint syrup instead of tonic. Went to the markets and bought fresh produce; carrots, tomatoes, and such. Made a Caprese salad. Ate hummus by the spoon. Tutored English. Wrote. Still writing.