need tons of coffee after last night.
Still.
About the way we can create worlds that exist only in our dreams, residing just behind our untold words. About the way we can have dreams becoming part of our daily reality. Non-limited space of time, non-limited sense of reality. Dreaming about motion.
Hoy, 17 como cada año.
Memories living presently, carrying our experiences to new life, making the past to count, increasing the magnitude of all previous steps.
For all those times our voices were silenced and for all those paths that were erased. To continue, to finish. To still in motion.
Wrote that as my coffee was still hot and the sky was still dark, the world was asleep and my voice was still quiet. Rain of thoughts and unclear ways.
Downtown for a minute.
“We tell ourselves stories in order to live.”
Ways to transport my mind to different places where motion was noticed.
Ways to start feeling the freedom and natural sense of motion.
Ways to scape to be present then.
State of nostalgia.
To feel alive and keep sanity running on. To feel the presence of each moment without anxiety. To feel the motion I felt. To try to make this transitional phase easier. To felt lost in memories and unknown streets. To remember be walking by crowded places. To feel it free.
All those stories we need to keep with us.
Untold stories.
“After all, the world is still great.”
When your presence delivers more than human attendance. About to be present.
About those simple routines offering amazing state of stability.
About a shared motion.
About fresh beginnings. Perspective as a tool.
Today I need to remember the good side about all of this.
R.
“Un final feliz a una novela que el autor había terminado en tragedia o viceversa.”
Developed attached to the idea of an early moment each day has been one of the best decisions I have made. There are days where I’m able to write a lot, there are also days where my thoughts are so heavy and I can’t just help myself putting them aligned, but the simple fact of doing this routine has been shown a whole improvement for myself. There are days where I can feel the motion. Those are the good days.
Feels.
Still.
Motion.
Relief.
—- —-
“We tell ourselves stories in order to live.”
About to be present and to be right there in the moment we’re living in. Carrying all of our past and memories on. Experiencing all of what the actual situation is offering us. Letting the things to flow. Respecting the motion of each stage. Telling our own story.
“Many years afterwards, we attempt to solve puzzles that were not mysteries at the time and we try to decipher half-obliterated letters from a language that is too old and whose alphabet we don’t even know.”
Day 147, need motion. Mental behaviour changes as the day go through, hard focus on thinking clearly, need to go outside for a while.
I was meant to be flying to Florence. I’m not. Not today.
“You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life.”
Scattered thoughts.
Places where I would like to be today. I miss the contact human, the strangers side by side, the interaction of unknown situations, the mix of languages, the uncertain reactions of other people, discoverable tastes, the merge of a big city, the anonymity on every step, the lack of dependence of certain routines, the misstated contribution of thousand of persons at one place. Today I want to remember those days. I miss motion, I miss external incentives.
Nostalgia de sombras y caminos recorridos.
Madrid, 2016.
“The past has a future, something it becomes, and that transforms it. Like the facts themselves, the person, the “I”, who experiences it and looks back on it discovers that it is not singular, but plural.”
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6am of a Sunday, puppy reclaims attention after yesterday vet’s intervention, the rain is filling the outdoors darkness while the city sleeps, my coffee is too hot to be enjoyable yet, I have finished Howard Greenberg book and I’m getting into Trieste stories with Claudio Magris, Instantáneas. There is always a way to feel comfort on nostalgia. Life and its funny ways.
What weekends are made for and other slow stories.