Lost in the big picture

I keep coming up with (but not publishing) little snippets of posts, little descriptions of moments, things I have seen, lingering life I have lived.

Life lived hectically in Italy while I was there; bathed in memories, friends' love and my innate Italian language.
The brutally-honest-and-too-rough hurried conversations with best friends *there*, due to lack of time to tell the nuances of everything *here*. The sun on my skin, the familiar scents of my best friends, wonderful wines drunk over dinner in favourite restaurants, feeling as if I had so much to tell, but not enough time. Loss of nuances, of wondering what it all is, what it all means. Thoughts idly wandering to experiment new points of view, to discover new patterns. 

Life lived here in Denmark. Moments lived as apparent-but-not-quite-clones of how I always lived them, repeating themselves in the loop of my days. And moments that look like nothing I have lived before. I don't always recognise myself these days and my reaction to that is, sort of,  lacking too. I am not analyzing my motives, even when I don't understand,  but keep a close eye on me, often raising a mental eyebrow in mild surprise. Everything is not what it seems to be, I am lost in the nuances *here*. And I am letting myself get lost in it, trying to go with the flow. And curious as to where it takes me, I am discovering new hues, wonderful colours in this.

New beginnings indeed.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Two years ago

I was very much in love. And the Valentines Day of two years ago, was the last one I spent as part of a couple. I looked for a blog-post of mine from that day, but it wasn't there. I did find a Love Letter from February 19th, addressed to the guy I was in love with, and initially, it surprised me. Not that I wrote the love letter, but that I *didn't* write about the Valentines Day he gave to me. Thinking about it now, I know perfectly well why I didn't write about it. Bear with me; here goes. He flew to Italy from Denmark, carrying a hundred red roses and a bottle of champagne. He had booked a table in one of the fanciest restaurants of Florence and had the champagne poured and the roses brought, just as we sat down at our table. There was also musicians and everybody's eyes were on us, and the lucky girl that received such lavish attention from her man. An American couple was taking our picture (he exchanged emails with them so that they might send the pictures)
Read more

Making a new friend

She's a friend of my brothers wife and I have met her at different family-get-togethers through the years. I always liked her, she's my own age, we have a lot of things in common. I have wanted to see her more now that I am home, but I haven't called her as much as I would like to. She called me yesterday evening and we went out for a few drinks, ended up touring around town and finished with breakfast at KFC at 4 in the morning. She slept over and we had breakfast then lunch as the hours went by and we just kept on talking; skipping effortlessly between deep and shallow,  laughing and generally having a good time. I enjoyed it  *so* much and am so happy today. It feels like I have found a new friend. I talk to my closest Italian friends a lot but they're far away, and while friendships thrive even long-distance, I miss them and would like to share this adventure with them. Not only by phone, but IRL. I would like to share my newfound love for Copenhagen, the cooking
Read more

Tamed

I let him look at me. All of a sudden I felt him there, in the doorway of my little kitchen, felt him looking at me, my skin tingling a bit where his gaze passed over me. I hadn't heard him coming, though I was very aware of him moving around the apartment, very aware of his presence there with me. Aware of him moving around, looking at things, taking in my home with all of his senses. I had been inexplicably nervous about him coming here, had cleaned up very thoroughly and tried to see my home as he would see it. Inexplicably; because I am not one to be fazed easily. And now he was standing there in the doorway of my kitchen looking at me. And I let him look without acknowledging his presence there; leaning casually against the doorway. Much to my surprise I let him look at me working, grinding coffeebeans or whatever I was doing. Refusing to turn my head, meet his eyes and break the moment, when I suddenly got the impression that he knew, that *I knew* he was looking at me
Read more