K-Blog

Showering and getting kissed by rays of sunshine through hot-water-vapours. Time slows down and looks the other way.

Haven't had a Sunday to myself for a long time now. Slow awakening in pink light through my curtains, sunshine and scent of coffee in my tiny kitchen, little green buds on all my plants, proof that they too, are thriving here. Bikeride with favourite music in my ears, salty air, as I arrive at the ocean and ravishing hunger when I get back in. Cold white wine to hot, hot soup and crisp bacon. Movie on the couch and little catnap as movie fails to entertain me. Then more coffee and music as I shower; I'm off to hear jazz with friend later. What a perfect specimen of a Sunday. I am slowly, slowly relaxing again; building my little home.

My first experience with yoga was a near-religious one. There is really no other words for it, though I am not religious at all. It was one of those lazy early evenings at the beach in Italy - the waves were lapping softly against the shore, everything was coloured gold by the setting sun, the few people left on the beach were dark silhouettes against the sky, and everybody was speaking softly after a long, white-hot day under the sun. I was about to pack up my stuff and go home too, my friends had gone home a little while ago to get ready for the evening; I was still working in clubs back then. I was just getting up, when the owner of the bar on the beach, a big curly-headed bear of a guy, Alessio, walked up to me and asked me if I wouldn't stay for the yoga. A small group of people did yoga on the beach once in a while, and they were just about to start. I told him I had never done yoga before, and he told me it didn't matter, he would guide me and I should just focus on my...

He came back. Circles are closing themselves these days indeed. I took a deep breath and told him that while I hadn't been ready to date when he asked for my number, it had been very important to me, it had made my day, but that I (for various reasons) hadn't had the balls to acknowledge his request. But thanks. He looked me straight in the eye and said "that's all right". Felt good. On another note. As of yesterday, I have been back in Denmark for a year now. We celebrated at work with bubbly and I plan to celebrate a lot more, away from work. Wish me happy-coming-back-to-D-day =).

I stepped outside in the early morning. The tiles of the terrace cool under my bare feet. The grass was yet moist, the lake was sparkling in the sun, birds were singing and the insects were buzzing. The light was bright, but yellow, the sky was blue as it gets only in Denmark. The early morning light, the promising warmth in the air, a fresh breeze caressing my legs. Scent of the coffee my mum brought to wake me up, and of fresh bread. The little table already set with butter and cheese, bees already buzzing busily around the marmalade. Coming home from Italy after spending 15 years there, still takes me by surprise. Sometimes I feel like I'll never get used to it all, and that I will always be Italian inside. I still talk too loud when I get excited or passionate about something, and I still use my hands a lot while talking. I also expect people to understand my sign-language and often will try to explain what I am saying. Those are moments when I feel like a stranger in a fore...

- when your collegues greet you "Hi summergoddess!" for just wearing a dress to work - when a squiffy male guest approaches the bar and all of a sudden there's 3 waiters behind you, asking pointedly how they may help? - when the cook hang out long after he's off-duty, to ensure you're going home safe and done closing the restaurant. - when your collegues take over responsability of the winecellar because the 7 male guests there got drunk and too-bold (on expensive wine that *you* sold them), and you ought not to "hang 'round these people anymore". While I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, I absolutely love to feel protected like that. I adore my collegues.

It took me by surprise. I was shopping and passed the supermarket on my way home, to pick up tomatoes for the buffalo mozzarella I have in the fridge. I was wearing my Ipod as usual - it's shuffling - something I never allow it to do, but these days I rediscover music I forgot I had. I walk into the supermarket and directly into the fruit and vegetables compartment. I can't make up my mind, there's so much beauty and inspiration here and I have all the time in the world. I linger for a long time, and my mind wanders, I have to pick a white wine for tomorrow as well, a task I love. My eyes feast on the bright red of tomatoes, on the bright colours and shiny waxiness of all the vegetables in the compartment. The deafening and seducing scent of basil. And suddenly I remember him telling me about tender bits of basil leaves wrapped around new Danish strawberries. They're both here, strawberries and basil, but I'll wait. I want to eat it with him. And as I realize ...

Again. It's not my usual restlessness, that hits me in a matter of hours and that goes away in a matter of hours. I am sort of busy these days, don't even have time to clean up and do my laundry. I am working a lot, and things are moving under the surface there. Good things and not so good things. I feel like I am in the middle of a transition-period, I feel like I want new stuff to happen. I have energy to sell. I also hooked up with an old friend here, and we're talking about opening the Copenhagen chapter of Improveverywhere (yes, they already have a chapter but it seems they're not very active) - we have a few good ideas. And very much fun discussing them, my friend (let's call him Mo) is one of those people I just click with; instantly, he has the same wacky (non)humour as I have; it is so good to meet up with him again. And good to feel that I have a person here that *knows* me, that I don't have to get to know slowly and start all over again with. I h...

He is so tender. I needed have no concern about voicing what this is. We tread a fine line in unison, not neglecting that there is something beyond the fab sex but not quite defining what, either. He. Is. So. Elegant. I love it. Being treated like I am a princess, even when I am sitting on him, gasping, covered in sweat and bodily fluids. And I have so much lust for him and the fact that he is so understated about his lust for me, makes it better. He is not all over me, he is keeping the distance I (and he?) need. I need to be lured out of me. I want to give everything I have to give, but not if taken for granted, expected to or cajoled into giving. He seems to understand that, or better even, feel the same. I want to spend time with him, to get to know him, he is really getting under my skin; I like what I learn about him and I told him so much. We seem so compatible with some things. With respect for our individual habits, with a natural reticence to invade, to control, to take ov...

I am, and have been, spending an enormous amount of time, thinking about him. Texting him and wondering what this is. I published a very short post: "Joy is 3", that "mentions" him, I am yet too chicken to write something real about him, for various reasons. Fact is though, that I like him a lot. He touches me clean with his sensitivity, his elegance, his composure.We might be very explicit in bed (and not even, I am not letting completely go yet) but he is soooooo correct outside of bed. A true gentleman. I am the one being afraid we destroyed something potential; what with us having sex that fast. At the same time, sexuality is so important to me, this lust I had, and has for him, blocked out everything else. He stole (and steals) my thoughts, my reason.  Now he writes blogposts about us. Touching and so sweet that I don't have words for it. And he hits hurt every time. Every blogpost of his has been tough on me (though eloquent, very Fresh and elegant as h...

I obviously returned to my beloved river while I visited Italy. It was one of many things I had on my to-do list. The first day I sat down with A and made a list of priorities. Of things I would love to do while there. One of them was just spending time by the river. The river that I rode my bike along those crisp, not-yet-too-hot mornings to go to work. Where I went to cool  hot feet during those long summerdays. Endless walks home from work, from aperitivi with friends under starlit nightskies, full moons or clouded heavens. I have seen that river calm with water moving as oil, I have seen it wild, green and foamy, licking greedily at its edges, eating its way up the banks and spilling its water on the biking trail. I have seen it become almost one with the grey heavens on rainy days, fog spilling and snaking its way between the hills on one side of the river. Water in one huge moving sheet, me not able to tell where sky start and river stops; surface a spray of drops moving in...

- my best friend crawling into my makeshift bed in her livingroom, hugging me happily and serving Italian breakfast.

- my best Italian friends telling me they have been dancing to this track for months; that this is *my* track forever because the girl that sing, sound *exactly* like me, when I sing.  That they have been dancing these past months, thinking of me, saying to each other " that's K's song, Hey, Hey" just breaks my heart.* *and the fact that Dennis Ferrer happens to be my all-time fave producer doesn't hurt either =)

but not on my lips (as long as there's any possibility of his lips on mine): What is this ? Are we dating ? Semidating ? Does two semi-dates equal one date ? Do I want to date, am I ready ? What french movie did he see, that wasn't the least arty-farty ? Is he curious about me ( I know he doesn't follow my blog) and if yes,  why doesn't he ask; is he *that* shy ? I tried to semi-explain (semi-everything here ?) that I don't know whether I am ready to date again (and I don't know if I am) but I get distracted around him, my eyes lock on to his, won't let go and I end up, stuttering and stammering like a 16-year old. Tried to appeal to his understanding, told him I have no conclusions but that I felt I needed to say something. He nested his hand in my hair (heaven) and chased away strong, decisive me and all of my words. I managed to tell him "you're distracting me like that" before reason went out the door and he just looked me in the eye...