December 14, 2013

Tick-tock goes the clock.

The clock doesn’t stop ticking… The battery can die but the earth won't stop rotating on itself, kissing the sun from all possible angles.

We insist on running, trying to keep up with the time that doesn't stop flying. The sun rises and sets without us even noticing, for the concerns we have are always too urgent, too important, too demanding of the time we don't actually own!

The Spring and its flowers comes and goes. So does the Summer days with the warm waves, the Autumn colors and the Winter cold…. and there is no time, between a tick and a tock, to enjoy the delicate poppies on the fields, the dead orange leafs on the park or the warmth of a good book.

And the clock keeps on ticking...

Couldn't we stop for a tiny second? Just on this one instant?… For what is truly vital might be to find time to actually LIVE… With depth… With a lot of questions and not so many answers… With kindness.… Giving it space, in the the chronological line, for the hurt to hurt and the love to be sweet. Taking it all in… in this one moment, in this limited time we have and that keeps fleeing like a fugitive, escaping in front of us.

…just so we will have a chance to say, one final day, that it was all truly worth it!

December 03, 2013

If life was the movie playing in my head.

Let's stay in tonight. I'll drink some Cabernet and you'll open up a couple of IPAs. We can play durak and laugh with Loveline on KROQ. It will be calm and warm in the room as we sit on the couch and realize that heaven is just this.

November 29, 2013

If life was the movie playing in my head.

Close your eyes, trust me again and let's hike up the Sycamore Hill. We will share a beer this one last time, keep our hands clasped tight and watch the city lights take over the horizon as the sun disappears behind the mountains (I know, the sunset…always the sunset!).

We will know it is the end but we will smile for there is no time or space that could ever torn our past spirits apart.

November 19, 2013


Please, give me another peaceful sunset… give me those bright orange colors of the sun going down on the horizon. 

Give me the revolting waves of the cold Atlantic sweeping off the shoreline. Give me the warmed up sand falling through the cracks of my open hands. 

Give me the distant vision of a sailing boat and the swirling foam of this ocean coming towards my bare feet. 

Give me the cold breeze of the northern winds and that salty smell of the seaweeds. 

Give me the calming hues of dusk... the pink and violet colors of a sun that just disappeared until God knows when. 

Give me back the easy days I long for, happiness in a glass of wine, the melancholic music from the old record player, shared moments of naïve bliss. 

Give me just perfect beginnings…Give me the idea that all that is good can last forever, frozen in time… no middle and no hurtful finish line. 

Give me the unchanged beautifully intense pain of love… the feeling of this eternal ecstasy that died inside of me on those lost days. 

Give me the insight of my own self. Shut my eyes tight so I can save these moments of forgetful pleasure, of friends laughing and us flying high. Make it not be like the leaves slipping away from the trees… Now transformed in mere broken skeleton sets against the grey autumn sky. A mirror of me and my broken self just standing alone, naked,  in that empty room.

Give me the time that makes me forget the stormy days... the time that makes everything hazy and light, like a beautiful dream. The time that makes the ache not be too near anymore.

Give me the chance to get lost again… lost in the woods, lost in the middle of the big city, lost in myself, where I can realize I never really knew where I was.

It’s the moment, now, to realize it is just useless for my brain to like a dying body…still, again, yet…. I need the legs back, the arms and other lips struggling to find mine to let me feel the sunshine retreat into good autumn while these eyes do all the talking.

Give me the happiness I found hiding in sad days. 

Give me another peaceful sunset... the sound of the seagulls crying at that big ball of fire and a lone hand sinking into the sand for comfort. Give me all this and tell me… that I… was meant to see this. 

Live with me as the distinct entities we cannot deny we are, that through divine intervention were still made into corresponding puzzle pieces from the clay.

Give me everything and let me feel we were once, long ago, roots of the same tree. An old oak getting stronger with time. And when our life line broke...We never let go.

Or we probably did… 

"Woken up like an animal
I'm all ready for healing
My mind's lost with nightmares streaming
Woken up (kicking screaming).
Take me out of this place I'm in
Break me out of this shell-like case I'm in.

Underneath the skin there's a human
Buried deep within there's a human
And despite everything I'm still human."

Elena Tonra, Igor Haefeli

November 08, 2013

If life was the movie playing in my head.

Let's go to the coffeeshop tonight, read a bit and stare at each other a lot. I'll drink tea and you'll order a coffee. We will just be happy.

About today.

Today I killed you.

Today I looked outside my window and saw your car swerve to the left on that fatal curve. It was cold outside and the sun was setting, painting the sky in bloody shades of red. There were so many sunsets we enjoyed together with those same vivid colors. Today, those shades were just an omen to the tragedy I staged within me. 

Today I killed you. 

My head, my mind, my spirit, they killed you. There was an awful and tragically deadly accident that left no hope. You were sadly taken from this life… young, talented, troubled, loved by so many… Loved, toxically, by me. 

I chose to kill you. Like in a story I build in my head… Like in the movies I see clearly developing in my mind.  I killed your story in this world, cut it short and mourned your loss with fat tears running down my cheeks. It was not the first time this salted water streamed down my face for you but it was, I had to trust, the last one… for today I killed you.  I could finally free my heart from the ifs and whys and let you go with no chance of return… You were dead, gone forever to the other side of this existence.

Today I killed you and I went to your funeral. The casket was open and you were lying there, handsome as ever and ironically smiling with those big lips I longed to love.  I held your lifeless hand and it felt as cold as the shoulder you had given me the last time we saw each other… I had to let go.

Finally, to me, there will be no more expectations or faith in a future version of you that will never come to reality.  There will be no more ill starred love. There will be no more drama. There will be nothing else but the one, condensed heartbreak of your passing away.

Please understand me and please forgive me but I had to kill you. Make you perpetually disappear. Make you eternally unavailable… to my eyes, to my hands, to my heart. 

We all need to fight to survive and today, so I could make it one more day, you had to be gone. 

I killed you and I was born again…today.

"Today you were far away
and I didn't ask you why
What could I say
I was far away
You just walked away
and I just watched you
What could I say.

How close am I to losing you."

Matthew Berninger, Aaron Dessner

September 18, 2013

If life was the movie playing in my head.

Let's stay in tonight, drink a glass of wine and dream about new adventures to come.

July 06, 2013

Farewells, goodbyes and the distant wish teletransportation was real!

The first time I ever said goodbye to someone I loved I was one and a half years old. My grandmother suffered from an aggressive form of breast cancer that was already invading the rest of her body and painfully weakening her bones. The legend goes that one particular day, when she was once more taken to the hospital - something that had become wretchedly familiar to all of us - I cried my lungs out! This one time, this afternoon seemingly similar to many others that had been, I decided to cry for my grandmother, screaming for her not to leave. It turned out to be the last time she went to the hospital. She would die there a couple of days later, much to the relieved and painful sadness of her loved ones. 

I don't quite remember this episode of my life, nor I remember what did I feel when someone so dear to me disappeared, so early, from my very young life. My dad, the son of that once lively, caring and vibrant woman, tried to take me with kindness to the subject of loss. After all I was just a tiny little girl, barely knowing how to put phrases together. He told me my grandmother had passed away and had been laid to rest so she could now become a beautiful flower or a wonderful tree in someone else's garden. To this day this sounds to me like the most charming dark tale and it is one that never stopped making sense in my mind.  

As an adult, I struggled to keep positive when I started saying goodbye to friends that were somehow leaving. I had a hard time accepting that I would no longer be part of their daily life, their routines, their coffee runs, their parties, their break-ups, their joys and their tears. I had even a harder time when that distance came, not only physically but also emotionally... I faced the reality that some people, once part of almost every 24 hours of my day for an important period time, were now estranged from me. We either slowly grew apart or life, surprisingly - for me, at least -  got us to break our once strong and significant bond. Accepting these separations, these damages, came with big scars that I had to learn to heal and avoid. It all came with time and with some confused hours reminiscing about where loss had brought me in life.

Just as Lavoisier once said, and just like the image of my grandmother turning into a beautiful plant, "nothing in nature is lost, everything changes". The people passing us by are never truly lost. They changed, themselves, life, us and they will keep on transforming the world long past their time with us. They affect the way we view life, our dreams, fears and hopes, the way we talk and laugh, our sense of humor. They leave behind the marks of their quirks, their long smiles and their wounds. We won't ever be untransformed by them and they will take part of us with them too... onto their next journey.  

These thoughts never made saying goodbye any easier. I don't think it will ever become easy. Suddenly airports aren't as magical as they were when I was a teenager. They became, not only the entrance gate to new worlds and adventures, but also the exit gate for beloved friends that life can unexpectedly make disappear. However, I can now be at peace with loss and exercise my soul to transport myself from the disruptive grief, that would make me anguishly and childishly cry, to the kind vision of colorful flowers and luxuriant trees embellishing someone else's garden. And even if a tear still lurks within, I can gently keep my smile while imagining such wonderful image.

"Tide will rise and fall along the bay
but I'm not going anywhere, I'm not going anywhere.
People come and go and walk away
But I'm not going anywhere, I'm not going anywhere."

                                                                    Keren Ann

July 03, 2013

If life was the movie playing in my head.

Let's stay in tonight, chomp on sunflower seeds, watch the aquarium go insane when we feed the fish, clasp our hands together and dream about our own "Garden Sate".

June 13, 2013

Days of our lives.

And then one day it was not like children playing anymore.

Love was out... in its most shattering, exciting, stormiest way. We were grown-ups for the years that rested behind, but we faced life like the teenagers we wished we could still be! Here and now there were real lives at stake though... hearts yet to be broken, unstained feelings, innocence to be lost, newfound connections of the brain and of the spirit! There was no playground love anymore... It was beyond kiss and tell, a whole set of unconfessed stories breaking down existing walls, tearing down the past and making the future unexpectedly unforgivable!

It was amazing how suddenly the friend next to me was not an innocent little girl anymore... my friend was a woman, a man, with a job, baggage turned into a whole backpack of stones, complicated loads of unnamed reflections. Surprisingly, people around me had this incredible aura of an experienced person with a life of encyclopedic tales turned soap operas…. Secrets, tangled stories, friends that were no more, love crooked into despair, longing feelings of times forever lost in a different chapter of some other novel. All an existence crushed into this dense movie, a reality tv-show of some sorts, all part of an unreal life that was my very own after all. 

This was my only chance at this show... Eventually it all seemed real… Devastatingly real!

But we're just kids on the run.

June 03, 2013

Elegy to a love that never was.

I miss you dear friend, dear lover, dear enemy... 

I miss you drinking your beer next to me. 
I miss your wisdom, your advice, your certainty balancing my doubts, calming the storm of my anxiety and appeasing what's inside of me.

I miss your baklava and the sound you made chomping on sunflower seeds. 
I miss your strong arms around my body, your warm embrace and the space there wasn't between us...  Your words written in long letters that promised eternity to the feelings we shared.

I miss seeing you walking towards me. 
Your jig, your brown bag crossed over your body and your big smile, smiling at me.

I miss your hand in mine.
Walking together through the little park in front of the church. Our hands clasped so tight wishing to be assured that it was all real, tangible and possible. 

I miss going to the petshop with you. 
Pet the rabbits, awe at the tarantulas. Beg you for a cat, or ask you for a bearded dragon I could name myself. You never asked but I would have named him Falcor... Like the dragon in the never-ending story.
I do miss your pets. 

I miss lazy nights and quiet weekends. 
Gazing at the aquarium and reading in your couch. The brown sofa with the white and blue flowery cover. I miss that cover... And the pillow you loved with the hippo! Laying there with my feet up singing along to some random song on your ipod.

I miss late Sunday lunches in the balcony. 
Ommelete the way your mom got you used to like, with feta cheese and fresh tomatoes... I loved cooking it for you. 

I miss the sunsets lounging outside.
The glasses of margaritas sitting half empty in the tiled heavy table, while we talked of a future that never came to be.

I miss your eyes on me while I put on my make up... 
You sitting on the floor and looking at me with a dreamy gaze. What were you dreaming about? I always wondered and never asked.
I miss wondering about your thoughts. 

I miss the morning after the parties. 
Waking up before you and making strong, black coffee. The empty bottles of beer all throughout the house. You liked to try the small breweries and the bitter, the better.
I miss tasting that bitterness in your mouth. 

I miss the blue camping chairs outside.
The chairs where you would end our late nights, your hoodie on, all curled up, with the sun already rising and the last beer in your hand.
I used to hate those chairs, how can I miss them now?

I miss the sunny afternoons in the hammock. 
The dogs around us, licking our faces and making us laugh. Smiling wide and your eyes glimmering with happiness, really brown, really big, really beautiful. 
There was an aura of a beautiful story to come. It was all painted with those bright, hazy colors unique  to dreams and good memories. 

I miss the little china plates on the big bookshelf by the entrance. 
We found them with your mom in the big thrift store downtown... The one where we spent countless Sunday afternoons looking for hidden treasures before going to roam around the 2nd hand bookshop.

I miss your big brown eyes piercing my own. 
Staring deep into what I had wanted to carefully hide. Without a blink. Only your arms holding my body against yours and my name coming out of your lips, followed by an eager 'I love you'.

I miss your music. 
Sharing songs and lyrics with you... laying my head on your shoulder and listening to the music we loved. 
I will miss you forever in all the concerts we won't ever share. 

I miss finding love in each move of yours.
Going out with you, have fun, laugh and dance the night away... All my happiness in your laughter, your joy, your pleasure.
I haven't heard you laugh in so long now... Will I ever hear it again?

I miss your Mickey t-shirt and your jeans rolled up when you biked. 
I miss the beginning when it was all uneasy and uncertain.The excitment, the hope... even the fear. We were two explorers finding each other in ways that no words can explain. 
It was all to come. All ahead. 
Now it is all behind as we counted the days there were numbered for us to share. 
All of them.

I miss you dear friend, dear lover, dear enemy... I miss you but I don't want you no more. 
For you were never mine to have.

The park in front of the church still has a green lawn... but your hand is not on mine anymore.
The balcony is there, lonely now, without the camping chairs, the tiled table or us.
I still put on my make-up in front of the mirror but as I glance over my shoulder I can't see you sitting on the floor.
The china plates ended up shattered, in a thousand broken pieces, on the ground... and the bookshelf is now empty of everything… of you & I.
Your thoughts may belong to someone else and are not mine to wonder about no more.
You have your pets, your music, your beautiful eyes, but your life is no longer part of mine.
The memories got tainted and the dreams never came to be.
Now I am the 2nd hand book waiting for someone to find me on a lazy Sunday afternoon.
For love is only eternal while it lasts.

"Miss your teeth dug in my shoulder,
As we rolled in early morning, 
Miss your arm dying beneath me,
As I lay there simply yawning.

Please forget me, you were right dear,
I am cold and self-involved
And though I'll miss you, recent lover
I am weak and therefore fold."

                              Keaton Henson

May 29, 2013

If life was the movie playing in my head.

Let's stay in tonight, push the furniture out of our way, practice some judo moves and laugh the night away. 

Telling Tales - The boy with a patchwork heart.

In a promised land filled with palm trees and sunsets of the most orange colors, lived the boy with a patchwork heart. He was a seemingly happy boy but had this big black heart covered with loneliness and filled with sorrow.

Why he got this heart of his is for some other time and some other doesn't belong here and now.

The boy with a patchwork heart realized one day that whenever he helped someone, in this really selfless and kind way, a colorful patch would be sewn on a piece of the big black heart of his... whenever he found a way to care for people, to truly take interest in their stories, whenever he truly felt for others and eased their minds and souls, he could add another colorful patch of joy to the broken heart he possessed.

But life has this strange way of wanting to show how delicate and fragile kindness can be and, the same way, patchwork is beautiful but it is just sewn together with lines that can easily break... the darkness was merely concealed by this frail mantle of the brightest colors! 
The boy with the patchwork heart had to work constantly, incessantly, every day of his life, to keep the shining patches well attached to each other. He worked hard to prove kindness as a lasting quality so he could keep the darkness well hidden away. 
He knew, deep down in his gloomy heart, it would be too hard to find someone that would follow him into the dark. He knew what darkness can do… it scares people, it scares love, it scares life away. Kindness, on the other hand, as delicate as it is, is able to give life to a tired spirit and ease the most melancholic thoughts.

And the boy with the patchwork heart kept sewing his patches forever, everyday, while watching the red sun go down behind the palm trees.

"No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white
Just our hands clasped so tight
Waiting for the hint of a spark
If Heaven and Hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the NOs on their vacancy signs
If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I will follow you into the dark."
                                                   Ben Gibbard

May 22, 2013


What life-changing means.
How much it mattered.
How much it troubles.
How much it cost me.
How much he lost me.
And his words.
And his smile.

If life was the movie playing in my head.

Let's stay in tonight, drink an ice cold margarita in the balcony, nibble on some baklava and enjoy the sunset while listening to the "Garden State" soundtrack.


I can still remember times when I felt I was home, protected, supported by a safety net of a place that saw me grow up, friends that knew all the good and bad in me, family that was a walk and a coffee-break away. It was all a myriad of habits that made my life a line with few curves or bumps. Home was the city that raised me in melancholy, the family and friends that understood me, the coffee shops and the little stores that knew what was my favorite cake and my clothing size. Home was more than my house, built with my partner, was a series of routines that made me comfortable, warm...and a bit numb. The thought of leaving this place, this state of body and mind, made me extremely anxious... maybe because I knew from the start that once lost there was no way back. Home was a feeling I had built over comforts and experiences that could easily change once some premises were lost.

Abruptly, in a short few months, when uncertainty took my life in a whirlwind of changing emotions, persons and places, home was gone. I had a place to sleep, I even had the same apartment back in my hometown, but home was gone. And I knew "that" home was gone forever. Going back to ignorance, going back to a non-wanderer state is impossible to achieve. You can't un-see what you already saw, un-know what you already learned, un-feel what took over you heart. The place that gave me the comfort I so relentlessly wanted to keep was gone. I felt a discomfort that haunted my thoughts and that became the subject of every drunken conversation prolonged into infinity with new people that, like me, felt homeless! All of sudden we were a community of gypsies.. wanderers like I dreamed of being in my teenage years... nomads with no home, no place to rest and the whole world to see and absorb. It was the most uncomfortable feeling I had ever felt but it was all I could be and all I became. The discomfort of this uncertainty was also the beauty of it... in most instances is this unquietness of the soul that makes us discover who we really are, what we really want, what can we really do. 

I embraced the wandering soul and the gypsy life with pride and an eager spirit. I can see all that it gave me... all the good and all the bad. Awareness, self-discovery, time  and personal bonds that are for life contrasted by a disconcerting cynicism about life, love and friendship, the understanding of the fickleness of feelings and a constant battle with my own self for a peace that was lost. Ignorance is a bliss but, ironically, you can only appreciate it the moment you no longer have it in you. Only then, and then is too late and that road is forever closed in your spirit. Friends that always were become strangers, routines and spaces lose their magic, you become an alien of yourself and discover more than you asked for. It is incredibly rich and exceptionally unsettling.  

And after a while comes the troubling doubt... Will I ever find home again... find my peace, my balance built of more than a place and ephemeral feelings of comfort?  I do miss the idea of home... the feeling of safety I once had, the person I was. That same feeling and that person can't ever be again. The place will always be different, even if it is the same apartment in the same city, the relationships will never come back unaffected, even if they are built with the same people I always knew, and the habits will never be lived as they once were, even if I still drink my tea at 6pm. Home will be a new idea, a new stability whenever I am able to find it within myself. Or I will someday find my peace in this wandering ways I learned to love and hate... Until then home will be a fleeting feeling in this momentary place and the people that populate my world in these brief flashes of contentment. 

"You know that point in your life when you realize the house you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of a sudden even though you have some place where you put your shit, that idea of home is gone. (...) You'll see one day when you move out it just sort of happens and it's gone. You feel like you can never get it back. It's like you feel homesick for a place that doesn't even exist. Maybe it's like this rite of passage, you know. You won't ever have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for your kids, for the family you start, it's like a cycle or something. I don't know, but I miss the idea of it, you know. Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people that miss the same imaginary place."
Andrew Largeman in "Garden State