1. Approx. 2 weeks ago
It's the first really warm day of the year. I have this enormous list of things to do including vacuum cleaning, dishes and taking paper and glass out to the recycling station. Instead I go and lie on the tiny bench in my tiny square of a garden. The sunlight warms my skin. I watch the blue sky through the ivy leaves that hover over me. I just lie there and do nothing. A ladybug visits my right arm. I let it stay there for a while. I put my laptop beside me and play Yann Tiersen's CD Tabarly. The warmth of the sun makes me feel lazy.
Later in the afternoon I go out to do one of my favourite things in the world: seeing a movie at the cinema all by myself. As I cycle through the streets I see people sitting on terraces, laughing and drinking. I park my bike and buy a single ticket for a movie about Russian writers. I snuggle up in a red chair in the dark in the middle of the room. And during the film the most amazing thing happens. Through all the cracks in the walls and doors of the movie theatre, there is this smell coming into the room. It's the odour of a rain shower after a warm spring day. It's beautiful, I can smell water from the sky on warm soil and street stones. I cycle back home through shiny wet streets with empty terraces.
2. Between 2 weeks ago and today
There is this thing the first rays of sunlight do to you. All of a sudden you start to get flashes of memories from holidays in warm countries. I travelled through Brazil for 3 months once. It was the most intense experience of my life. I can't remember a time in my life when I was happier or living more in the moment than maybe during my early childhood. It's weird that 3 months of your adult life can have the same effect on you as a happy childhood. But it's the truth, my truth. I still hope to experience it once more. Until then, I have to do with the memories. They come and go. Sometimes I consciously take a moment to let the memories fill my head. When I look at pictures or listen to some of the music I listened to back then. And sometimes I am just overwhelmed by a flash of memory on the most random moments.
So now I'm walking to the grocery store down the street on a sunny day. And all of a sudden I'm standing at the corner of a street in Rio de Janeiro. I'm passing a newspaper stand. Cars are racing down the street. I'm wearing a yellow top, a black skirt with flowers and flip-flops. I'm walking there all by myself. There is the filthy sweet intoxicating smell of the city en the hot air sticks to my skin. I feel tiny and yet I feel like I'm at the centre of the universe. And all I have on my mind, the only thing in the world that's on my mind, is what I'm going to eat next. I lust for pao de quesos (little round cheesy bread things). And in the midst of that moment, all is mine. I own the city, the Brazilian men talking and sitting on their chairs on the pavement, I own that funny smell, the barefooted children, the asphalt, the green mountains with the monkeys in the background, the sun shining on the people and houses, I own it all. And most of all, I own time. Time stretches out before me eternally. I've never felt like I've had so much time before. It stretches and stretches on.
3. Today
My head is all fogged and fuzzy and it's been that way for far too long now. I'm stressed and tired. I want to go to the hairdressers to get a new haircut. But the hairdresser says they're fully booked for today. There goes my plan. What do I do next? I stand beside my bicycle thinking about it, cursing the hairdresser. I feel tired and would like to go home, but what can I do there besides mope and feel lonely? So I head for the forest instead, because it's really a beautiful sunny day. I'm already getting tired of the thought of how far I have to cycle, but I force myself to do it. I do allow myself to take it as slow as I like, though.
As I park my bike and start walking through the trees, I realize this was a good idea. I'm letting the tiredness come over me entirely, allowing it to be present. I find a beautiful spot where I can sit on a tree trunk and watch the sun shine through the freshly grown, light green leaves of spring. I notice a tiny little mouse walking through the leaves a few inches from me. I love this little funny creature. I'm yawning and rubbing my face from tiredness, but it's okay. I go on my way again and find this coffee place in the middle of the forest. I walk inside and it's beautiful. Wooden tables and brick walls, freshly home-made bread and coffee. I sit in the corner, drinking coffee, eating sweet bread and reading a book. The sun shines so brightly through the window on the white pages of my book that I can hardly read any more and I'm squinting my eyes. I rip a piece from the bread with two fingers and then I dip it in the coffee. I watch the dough expand from soaking up the light brown moist and then I take a bite. This is when my conciousness starts to return. I become focused again. I lick my finger and press it on the remaining seeds from the bread on my plate. I sigh and it feels like the first time I'm taking my breath in a long time. As I exhale, some of the tension goes away from my body. Not all of it, but still, I feel better.
