Jan 20th 08.31am
How is it possible that each time I start reading a book from pre or post war Paris (The Mandarins), I always get transported into another realm, the one where I always feel good because it is the one that best reflects my personality?
I am on a flight from Bali to Malaysia. I am very happy. There is no internet so my brain forgets about work and endless bookings and research.
I have a guy sitting on my left, with long hair, tattoos and a good body. I am immune. I can’t help but wondering why and then I think that I don’t like clichés anymore. I am also entirely focused on myself. I found terrible bliss in hanging out in my brain. I have so much life trapped in those synapses, it’s incredible…
Maybe I should write more and share more. Make people think. Attract kindred spirits. Be like in The Mandarins. But then I remember what a titanic job that is and how it’s almost impossible to find such spirits. People are very nice, which is really cool and reassuring. The world is an awesome place to hang out with its ups and downs; overall, people everywhere are trying to make the best out of what they have.
However, to find real pulse is really hard (and by this I don’t mean romantic or sexual). People blame social media, smartphones, lifestyle, times changing and fast-everything culture. We post stories but we’re unable to live them. We compose Instagram worthy scenarios but somehow fail the mental patience to actually be in that moment. We want to go back to more talk and more genuine interaction but we lack courage and transparency to do so.
Then every eclipse of the moon I would meet a man or a woman who suddenly reminds me what a charming being the human is. Ethereal, sparkling, chapeau magical.
Attributes that become contagious and stronger with every smile and each time my eye meets your eye. We talk about stuff, mostly stuff that matters and I get lost in the colour of your eyes, the shape of your lips or crest of tasteful wrinkle art. Maybe when you smile, I can catch what are you nervous about or maybe when I say something, my words remind you of something or someone important, including yourself. We chat for a short or long time and if I am seated I will be a bit dizzy when I get up or if I am standing I will have forgotten where I was going or what was that important just two seconds ago. But I will feel very good; a kind of happiness that never goes away, it only adds up, like a pouch of little treasures that stay valuable no matter how much time has passed.
I wake up the next morning thinking how lucky I am to have met you; the world makes sense again. How foolish to think that you don’t need anything from people… Certain rare encounters give you this crazy energy that no other practice will ever deliver or any easy earning will ever satisfy.
So you meet the person the next day and you play cool. Until they smile back. Then you know. Can this be a bit like falling in love? Or falling back into the world?
I do believe in chemistry, not just between two people but all people. The more you’re connected to your true self the more you manage to connect with everyone else. Conscience has a scientific explanation but it can best be observed outside the labs and definitely outside the norm. Maybe if we were focused on bonding rather than showcase displaying, than it will all make sense. I believe with all my heart that if this won’t fix us, nothing will.
Now… about that Eastern European personality with its magical mist of what might have been and how it would have felt (…).
July 20th 12.56pm
After a few more flights and countries, and what it seems to be a case of amnesia, I found myself reading the above note from six months ago and asking myself (should I be concerned with all this internal talk?), why the heck I didn’t publish it. Uhmmm, because I forgot. How am I ever going to remember everything…?
If someone asks me where I was this year my instinct would be to take out the phone and read my 2018 Travels note which I tried to memorize several times so I sound very natural at remembering all the crazy sh*t I did. Instead I sound senile. Well, you try to remember every single day of your past year if every single day is different. I’m still trying to understand if I accumulate memories or it’s the world who accumulates me. I’m very aware that I’m all over the place. Which is really good because my place is everywhere. Remembering is the second most important thing.
Anyway, it’s funny how this six months ago memoire ends on a note related to my Eastern European nature. It’s funny because now I’m on a flight to Bucharest and yesterday at midnight I just finished organizing my two months’ roam to Eastern Europe (well now now I am waiting for a delayed fly to Pisa, for further confusion). My reason is very practical; I’ve seen most of the other Europe. But I do intend to be mentally skinny dipped in romantic assertions and find comfort in being surrounded by equally dramatic and psychologically over charged people.
Stay tuned for future Eastern European cultural dissertations and my own twisted interpretations.
Thanks for reading!