K-Blog

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...

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 a...

I got to work at the restaurant today and realized we hadn't many reservations. Actually, one person might handle them all, and two of us were working. So I changed from my suit back into jeans and my old t-shirt, and got to work in our courtyard while the other waiter; S took care of our guests. A little piece of heaven it is. Potentially. I have never seen it in use, I have worked there since November and I have never once imagined what it might be like. In the tender sunlight of today I suddenly envisioned it; flowers everywhere, tables set with immaculate tablecloths, plates and glasses sparkling in the sun, happy people everywhere, sipping crisp white wine, eating antipasti,  laughing and enjoying themselves. And I got to work. I was done after 5 hours; it was dark. I had picked up all the dead leaves from the winter, weeded out all the evergreen plants, found broken glasses, cigarettebutts, bottlecaps, phonenumbers, coins and cigarstubs in the garden furniture. Left there ...