She stood in the warm pool of sunlight; her battered suitcase piled on the side-walk again. She knew she had longer ways to go. Unaccustomed to such calmness, she wanted to delay the other worlds that were waiting.

It had been inconceivable to her that people could destroy each other, over and over again. She wished to offer comfort, to erase the damage. She didn't understand why people were not used to experiencing something without over-thinking the potential consequences it may have. It seemed absurd to her that people should have such skewed perceptions about the things that were most important to them.

She had observed that most people went through phases. Some-days they were the people they were supposed to be; both them and their silhouettes. They hoped that on the days they were only darkened lines, she was still willing to be near them. Even with this thought in mind, they would buy her drinks and then tell her lies. And when all other excuses had been exhausted, they blamed it on the days.

There were slow days and busy days and dull days and hateful days and the rare days – and they were both long and short at the same time. They ended up flowing into one another and lost their names. Those days were a blur, commutes forgotten over pixel-strings of texts sent describing nothing, days awash in emails containing famous quotes from famous books that were never read and authors whose names were mispronounced. And then those days turned into weeks, and months and years.

They thought she had lost her way but they didn't know that not all those who wander were lost. It comforted her, in a strange way, to travel from the hills to the desert and meet all these people who were all so alike and so different. They were all alone. They made futile attempts to be sincere. To be there for someone else. They made promises that the other person wouldn't be alone. This was friendship. This was love. This was humans at their best and worst.

Nothing was simple, little was whole. They were part technology, part broken family, part digital, part unknowable and in-capable of belief in mystery.
But then there were some people that made her reconsider.
They told her to not lose hope – that what she seeked would be found. They trusted ghosts. They trusted dreams. They trusted their heart, and they trusted their story. They were so blissfully unaware of the demons that they were still capable of finding joy in the smell of pages that had become brown with age.
So she picked up the suitcase again, and walked on. She had longer ways to go.

You came as always, like sunshine - lifting dragging spirits and bringing childlike anticipation. You made me feel eight again. Days and nights passed by in a blur when I was with you, I lost track of time.

I remember our lazy times together, the aimless conversations, the promise of leisure, take away food, and good music. You managed to induce this kind of trance like magic on me, where the biggest worry was being able to remember when I was awake and when I was not.

You worked your charm on everyone, but I always felt like we had this connection, you and I. I would plan for days before you came, but then just end up spending time doing the simplest things, without a care in the world, because I was with you.

You always took your leave too soon; slip away through my fingers before I was ready to let you go. Couldn't you linger a while?

I do love you Dear holidays, and I miss you already. Come back soon.

Dreamed of paradise

We come into this world with a whole lot of big dreams.
Somebody wants to be president. Just because it looks so cool to have thousands of people watching while you're on tv making a speech. Somebody wants to be a racer because you want to ride that fast. While some little girls want to princesses, find their prince charming and live happily ever after.
Me? I just wanted to be a mommy. Clearly because I adored my own. She seemed to be a mind reader. Every kid that age thinks his/her mommy/daddy know and understand his/her emotions better than himself/herself. Why? Well of course! Because mommy knows you're hungry before you do and she knows you have to pee before you pack up for a long drive while you realize right after she's told you four times and you've refused four times and the car has rolled on to the highway.
Well do you think they know you best now?
Haha big joke.
No those big guys don't get it apparently. Neither does that boy you love. Or his best friend. Nor your countless face book friends.

9999 out of every 10,000 kids are swiftly, inadvertently de-geniusized by grown ups. Ah well I could have been the next Einstein - but mom dad and all the uncles and aunties prevented it.

We used to get angry and upset because of loud noises or because we didn't get our food on time. Now we pull out our guns at the red light. We would spread our arms and think the world was at our feet at the highest point of the swing. Now we're afraid - all the time, that the swing might just bend and break under the pressure. We drown ourselves in the cacophony of the voices saying - 'no'
What happened to those big dreams?
Oh well they changed, altered by all the ifs and buts of the world.
Disillusionment set in. A little bit at least. Weird things started irritating you. People, most of all.
You think 'how could they!' You get disgusted, spend hours and days being a vegetable, in a gloom, brooding.
It does affect us, no matter how much we don't want it to. Show me a person who remains untouched by this and I'll worship him (Howard Roark you should have been real). Thing is you didn't think so, but shit happens. Everyone will tell you that. Keep a dog with you long enough and he'll tell you right at your feet. True story.

I have longed for people before, I have loved people before.
Not like this.
It was not this.

Give me a world, you have taken the world I was.

~ Anne Carson

What do you do about it? Some of us move on. Others spend their lives cleaning up everyone else's poop. We fall down, we get back up. We step on someone's back to get to the next step of the ladder. Yes we do. All of us. In weird twisted upside down ways, that at times even seem noble. Its the way of life. The nature of evolution. Darwin couldn't have been wrong now could he?
We fall down again and we get up again, just a little dirtier and moodier than before.
At some point after the falling down and looking around, you start to get a little bit tired. There's too much noise at times no? Your heart chugs to a tired halt. Reflection we call it.
And because we've always been taught to believe in happy endings, even the most pessimistic of us, we keep going. Because it's fun sometimes to look for the diamond in the haystack. Because even if you want to sleep forever, the sun will continue to blind you every single morning.

when she was just a girl, she expected the world
but it flew away from her reach
so she ran away in her sleep
and dreamed of
paradise

Do you look out over the sea at night?

Do you see the moon and stars reflected on the water?

Do you smell the salt air?
Does it feel like home?
Are you looking at the same patch of sky that I saw?
In that moment, do you feel what I felt?
Do the sirens whisper your name as they whispered mine?
Tell me,

does the siren song in the middle of the night sound like

the wind,

or the stars,

or the fallen angels?

Tell me.

Fair well

'As I'm leaving, a change comes on my eyes
These streets persuading me, with mumbled strange goodbyes
Through the water, through the rain, to the soul of everything
I throw my heart out, on the stones, and I'm almost gone.....'

So why are goodbyes and endings so dramatized in our hearts?
As if they made a significant impression on the turn of events. As if they could do justice to all the things gone wrong in between. As if they could hope to accomplish what wasn't.
Because on the outside, there is hardly ever an extravagant display of emotions, for if there was, it couldn't be enough. The air is full of thoughts and things to say. But at times like these, only the small things are ever said. The big things lurk unsaid, inside. Maybe it's our basic human tendency, or that we have an inherent inertia of change, however hopeful or expectant we might be for tomorrow.
Some things take time. They take time to begin, they take time to develop, and they take time to end fully. But if you play the cards right, beauty creeps up in the most surprising, rewarding and profound places and creates this sort of true, stinging grace.
And maybe it's just the hopeless optimist in me, But I believe what we have once created, we can never lose and all that we love deeply becomes a part of us.

So, what makes an end really? When can you say it really is, 'over' ?
When the lights go out and the curtains come close, is it the climax of the show, even when it continues to find it's way into the never-ending mental film inside of us?

Maybe, for the chain of thoughts and actions we start, there is no written epilogue. Maybe it's like well composed music, where one note blends into the other and you can not distinguish one from the other.

Yes, the world may aspire to vacuousness, insignificance surrounds us. Then, let us drink a cup of coffee. Silence descends, one hears the tick of the clock, curtains cast shadows in the warm pool of light. And with each swallow, time is sublimed.....

Nothing is as far away as one minute ago, and nothing as erratic as the next one.

I'll smile at you, and this....this will be my poignant goodbye.
So, fair well,
until we meet again.