The Innocence Of Living.

The sun is perfectly warm, and I sit behind a tree to filter those surplus rays blinding my eyes. It's one of those days in which I leave everything behind me and decide to enjoy this random European city with its splendid calm and elegant simplicity. I realised today that no matter what a person has, it is only one blessing that matters most; the blessing of knowing your blessings, of enjoying every one of them like you are having it for the first time. It is the pure enjoyment of sipping some coffee at a local coffeeshop, of walking through your neighbourhood, of meeting a beautiful person, of feeling the orange-coloured warmth on your eyelids as you close them under the sun as if you are doing them for the first time, every time. It is teaching your self the innocence of living, like a child with amusement on his face as he walks his first steps. And the best thing of this all is that we still own the choice to live life this way, this is when routine dissapears and we become the beholders with beauty in their eyes.

Spirituality.

In my new room, a rectangular fairly spaced room with a wooden roof on top of my head and a bedlight on my side I lie, in a new trial of describing those beloved moments of spirituality in which I, with all naïveness of the romantic person I am, feel like having enough serenity and confidence to rule this world. I feel like the center of my universe is at my bed, that the universe is one, and one with all inside it. I feel like a man looking out of the window at a serene, calm and beautiful landscape of green mountains and a lake which reflects what he feels inside. He can also see all the other spiritual moments of love, happiness, sadness and longing which were provoked by a certain event, a prayer, reflection on life, a piece of music, reading a novel and imagining the landscape which the novelist sees infront of him while writing, being in the disarming presence of a beloved person or longing for him scattered before his eyes like tree leaves on a windy September morning. In these moments, I feel like I can sacrifice my very life for the beauty of this brief interlude.

Euphoria.

I recommend listening to Hammock's "East" while reading this for maximum enjoyment.

Inspired by: Paulo Coelho's "Aleph"

The idea of this piece was born in a small compartment in a train somewhere in the countrysides of Hungary.

Sunrise, wheatfields, towns, forests, towns, forests, beds of roses. I look outside the window like a little child with innocent amusement, like a 4-year old entering a cotton candy factory. In this feeling of euphoria that I can't describe or tell to anyone, that would stay locked in my soul with absolutely no need for any kind of documentation except maybe those simple little words I am writing now. On a train heading back home.. leaving behind people who taught me the real meaning of friendship and unconditional love, some of whom I have said my last goodbye to. On a train, sitting alone in a closed compartment remembering the things I have been through this year in a moment in which I feel that my world is fitting back together like a puzzle whose pieces were all out of place, subtly reminding me that it sometimes could be a beautiful, meaningful whole where I could relax.

Lying back in my chair, listening to the music I love and that accompanies me in every journey at times, dancing around and touching the sun rays that are barely cracking their way through the tree branches with my hands at others. I can see myself in the window but I can also see my lovely place back in the city lighted all along as it always was but nobody is there to indulge in the beauty of it like I used to do. I can see my friends all wasted, laughing heartedly over something irrelevant as I smile and continue leading them home, I can see my cigarette smoke departing my lungs and flying into nothingness. I can see my laughs and my tears and my consistent perseverence to do my best for the family that never leaves my mind. Everything in my world -for a moment that I knew for sure it would pass- was simultaneously very clear and very large, very small and very quiet.. very peaceful.

Soon I will return to my respective home as I show off the pictures I took trying to convince myself that a journey did exist. All my photos and souvenirs will be there but time, will tell me that I never left this home, this room, this chair. I will try to tell my stories about the cities I have been to and the people I met on my way but the more I will try, the more I will become convinced that I won't be able to describe except what has changed from the outside, not what changed inside me. Otherwise I'll be crazy.

The list of things I own.

 When you sit down at your favourtie table in your favourite coffe shop, in that special bench in your favourite walkway which you feel is your own property. That is how it is for people like me who are drowned in their own thoughts, they have these little comfy places that they think they own because other people didn't notice the beauty in them. You introduce special people in your life to these places and they thank you for letting them see the charm of a little goddam bench to which you are certain they will come back to, and so on. This is how it is for people like me, we glimpse beauty in the smallest details. In the corners of some random building, in the warm sun rays cracking its way through the branches of a tree, in the white rose resting between her golden hairs. We own the moon, the night, the silence, the city lights, the cold breeze, the sunrise, the sunset, the waters splashing as they hit the rock you are sitting on, the melancholy of a dead tree. We can feel, and feeling is the catalyst to our lives, love is the inspiration to our writings and motivation is our first aim. We aren't antisocial but we prefer silence to many things in this life. We can be writers, doctors, males, females, black, white, or even blind. We are present, we are amongst you.

Small moments like these.

 For a hopefully great experience, I recommend listening to this track while reading: Hammock- Mono No Aware. Thank you.

 What is the closest that we ever got to describing feelings? Can they really be put into words? Like emptiness for example, does it happen that you relate to that feeling by reading a novel, or by listening to a violinist passionately brushing those strings with his stick like a man passing his fingers through his lover's hair? Those moments when emotions are so pure, so real you can actually touch them? Those emotions that make up a stunning work of art, like a mosaic, are the ones we tend to remember and base our memory of people and places on. Do you ever go to a place that reminds you of a certain feeling you don't want to let go of? Like the joyful sadness of passing by that place that reminds you of one of these moments you shared with a special person? Have you ever seen pure joy in someone's sparkling eyes, or in the wrinkles drawn on their face by their enchanting genuine smile and this same feeling starts running down your spine? Sad it is how we never get to see such feelings translated into enlightening facial expressions on our own faces, and the only things we see in mirrors are blank faces and fake smiles. But happy it is indeed that I decided to write down those moments onto paper so I can always get back to them, because surely.. life is only made out of small moments like these.