I entered the apartment, and as the the front door closed behind me, I had shut my eyes to soak it all in, while Kleopatra was turning and twisting around my feet in utter joy.
I take long walks in the countryside, over the hill above my studio or in the nearby forest almost every day. And somehow I fell out of the habit of taking the time to walk from one place to another within the city I live in. I suppose it is just so much faster and straightforward to drive. Lately the crowded sidewalks and noisy streets make me want to head out from here as soon as I can, and spend the most part of my day in a calm and silent place, where I can hear mavises sing. Tonight was an exception. Tonight there was something in the air around me, something in my heart, so inviting and nostalgic. My mother helps me with henna-dying my hair and we've spent the afternoon doing just that. I was about to leave, but suddenly turned right, instead of turning left to pick up my car.
I used to walk these roads so many times. My grandparents lived in this very direction, and as a child I used to walk down to their place countless times, it was so much joy to pass by the lakes, stopping by playgrounds and forgetting to check my watch. In a dream I said goodbye to my grandfather in the very spot the apartment I now live in was built. This used to be an open garden, a fence-less private property that everyone used as a shortcut. I had that dream in 2008. But I remember it better than what I dreamed about last night.
Was it nostalgia? I am not sure what the reason was for my sudden urge to take that right turn... But I don't believe in happenstance. The mindfulness I experienced was everything I needed tonight. Slow steps. The girl in the white coat and the vibrant red lipstick, her bashful gaze at the fellow walking next to her...The man carrying an enormous gym-bag, with his jacket zipped open. He was not wearing any scarf, though it was a chilly night. As I turned to face the tall office building I remember looking up at the all-glass cubicles, some embraced in darkness, others lit up by a tired dimmed light. I walked across its parking lot and ended up by the front lake, facing four women walking towards me. The one on the far left was so engaged in her storytelling that she nearly knocked me off the sidewalk.They reminded me a little bit of Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda.
A peaceful melody filled the light evening air. I could sharply hear the sound of my steps against the wooden path that was recently built upon the side of the lake.
A father carrying his baby boy in a sling wrap. His footsteps grounded in grace and security. It was his time to be just there, the peace in his movements, the way the world revolved around him and his toddler, they were both so grounded in that very moment in time, as if nothing else had existed...what a marvelous thing to witness! The bewildering dark eyes of an ambitious jogger, as he timidly passed me by, not having the courage to look fully up.
The asphalt glowed in crystal black, as the cold misty night settled upon it.
It is the tiny moments. The meaningless. I appreciate details. Presence. Life is nothing but snow-frost on the front window of a desolated barn.