Of splendour and smallness


I am not weird. Just because I do things differently, doesn’t mean I am weak. Or sad. Or lonely. I’m just not like you are. My soul vibrates differently to the world outside. It still sees it. It still feels it. My God, you have no idea how much my soul can feel. Or how colourful my emotions are. Or how they blend into each other creating subtle, fragile, amazing new nuances that the eyes can’t even begin to perceive.

I love life. I love living it. I love it even more when my path intersects with those of people who possess a certain thirst of living – the mad ones, in the words of a dear friend of mine, inspired by Lewis Carroll’s Wonderland. I just don’t live in the same way that you do. For me, this word has so many different, complex, deep meanings.

If I’m in a place where it’s really dark at night, give me a blanket and nice summer weather.  I’ll lie there for hours – because I rarely get the opportunity to appreciate the night sky in all its splendour. It reminds me of my childhood, of the summers spent at my grandmother’s place. I’ll carry those memories within me forever and, whenever I’ll lie on my back and open my eyes to a star-filled sky, I’ll always go back to being the little kid fascinated both by grandness and tininess.

If it’s a rainy day, give me a windowsill and a good book. A real book, with pages I can touch, smell, flip. I’ll be there all day long, registering the vibration of each word through the tips of my fingers, engraving the story into my mind, and slowly opening windows into my heart to let the emotions pour both inside and outside, intertwining, overflowing.

If I’m in a beautiful spot in the mountains, give me a camera and just leave me there for a day. I’ll fall in love with every gust of wind, with every sensation, with the green, with the blue, with the trees, with the insects, with the dirt. Look at the photos I take and see the world through my eyes. I bet you had no idea you were passing by so many tiny, lovely things. Take a more careful look next time. I’m sure you’ll fall in love as well, irremediably.

Talk to me. Because I can see so deep inside myself, I know my dark and ugly places much too well. I might not deem myself worthy of invading your existence with mine. But if you want me to and you let me know that you do, be prepared. Make me feel safe around you – I will surely open up. I might turn out to be quite a handful, but don’t be discouraged. Let me see the beauty in you. You definitely have it, there’s no doubt about that. And, maybe, remind me that I’m not entirely made out of dark and ugly places.


Too much snow

And all that’s left is to accept that it’s over. My dreams ran like sand through the fists that I made…

I have never been so cold, not even when I came home and the train could not advance because of the snow. I had to endure the cold for over nine hours since I had left my warm room in the dorm. After some time, I couldn’t even feel my feet. It was as if they had been replaced by a couple of inert logs. There was no heat and no sound other than that of the train screeching as it advanced sluggishly.

Outside, there was only snow. Much too much snow. It had covered the whole world, making everything even. Pain, tears, joy, memories, there was no meaning left to them. Snow had covered it, thus rendering it insignificant. And there I was, hollow inside, stranded in the middle of that ocean of frozen water, drowning in the cold. All that snow was too heavy, I couldn’t bear it.

In a way, I am still there, out in the middle of nowhere, while snow falls down innocently and covers my screams, my tears, my pain, my courage. My limbs are gradually becoming inorganic, my whole body is steadily turning into an artificial, mineralized shell. Only my heart is stubborn enough to keep beating and bleeding. I know what it is trying to do. It wants to fight till the bitter end, to cling to that small and frail feeling of love that has been born and bear it and cherish it until the blood runs out and it can’t beat anymore.

Who am I to tell it to stop? It won’t listen to reason even if I tried. And maybe I don’t want to talk it out of it. Even though it hurts, even though all I can do is lie in bed and cry, maybe that’s all I want right now. I’m lying in the middle of that while field. Flowers of ice are growing all over me, covering me, silencing my pain. Nobody can hear me, nobody can come and pick me up. At the very least, I want my soul to freeze to death while loving the best way it can. There’s nothing else I can do. There’s just too much snow.

And though I can’t understand why this happened, I know that I will when I look back someday and see how you’ve brought beauty from ashes, and made me as gold purified through these flames.