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March 16, 2019

Hurricanes


Let me not turn away
From happiness or pain
Just not to run away
In my heart and in my head
Let me face
Hurricanes


We live in a mad, absurd world, that lacks human or divine justice. We struggle to exist, to live, to cope with our bodies, our diseases, with the corruption, with the injustice. “Injustice”, I think, is the key word here.

We fight. We carry our inner wars, we fight with our tiredness, our pain, our fragility. We fight with the system, with what other humans achieved and destroyed with their money and relations. We fight to make a difference, we fight for a better job, we fight for justice. We fight even when we know we don’t have a chance.

My kind of writers, my kind of people, have always been the few ones, the ones that “carry the fire” in a meaningless, cruel, violent, apocalyptic world, ‘cause I think we are closer to our own destruction than ever. There are times, however, that I feel that I have been struggling for too much. With a wrong system, with a cruel divinity (or lack of it), with a corrupted country, with my own body. Feeling like chasing after bits of warmth even when I know they are not real, not there. Feeling like screaming, and punching, and running away. Feeling like a volcano on the verge of explosion because of the intensity of my own feelings – what, dear, absent God, should I do with them?

I wish I always had the power to face the sound and fury, to face hurricanes, to be me in this futile world … I wish to be able to live, to understand “the role I’ve been given”, to find a meaning in all this meaningless.

Dear world, dear God, let me be. And let me live.

March 3, 2019

A Room of One's Own


There is so much noise around us. The noise of work, that we take with us after the working hours, in our houses, in our beds, in our dreams, or in our insomnia. The noise of modern life, of struggle – to have our own house, our own car, to pay all the bills. The noise of loneliness and the noise of shallow people. 

I try to hear my own voice in all these noises. I try to focus on something that I once believed in, I try to find time for myself, for that dusty room inside myself. Time for reading, for writing, for thinking of other things than the mundane.

Modern people seem to lack this room. Most of us get home with that baggage taken from work – how should I fix that? What should I do with that problem? I still have to send some emails, give some calls (from my time) ... and in this tiredness that never seems to end, we get lost in all kinds of diversions, from glasses of wine to watching Netflix, knowing that in the morning we start all over again. 
 
We want a room of our own. Not for cleaning, cooking or arranging stuff. A room in front of the sea, where we can listen to and see the waves, where we can feel them on our skin. A room for our dreams, for our souls, a room where the term work should not enter. A room to gather our strength, where we can focus on us, a room where we could breathe. And live. 


Bird set free

„Every time I find the meaning of life, they change it.” (Daniel Klein) You see, I’ve had a design, and I don’t know where I did wrong. ...