Our share of morning,
Our blank in bliss to fill,
Our blank in scorning.
Here a star, and there a star,
Some lose their way.
Here a mist, and there a mist,
Afterwards — day!
(Emily Dickinson)
I find myself riding a nighttrain to Belgrade tonight, I spent the whole afternoon working and writing and was later on joined by two new friends I had made and had come to hold quite dear.
Two sweet French art and film students, Clement and Pauline, they were a pretty pair, though not a real couple, I loved to imagine as if they were. Such a cute couple :p.
We had spent the last 2 days cooking and spending the evenings together, in the kitchen of their warm rented apartment.
Last night we were joined by a German couple that rented the second room of the place. They were hitchhikers too and turned out to be warm and friendly folk, though at first I must admit to have misinterpreted the girls humour as somewhat dry and pretentious. Anyway, I was wrong and after a few beers and strumming my heart for a few country songs on the banjo, I found myself to be low and nonsensical again towards these people that were obviously more aware than me. I have these bad moments when I can act like a jerk, mostly when something's not emotionally right, and yes I'm searching again... I guess
I feel myself purifying again, these last weeks on the road, are like a purgatory, a facing you straight in the face of reality, your weakness laid out in front of you... and where are you heading now?? that seemed to be my question right now... that old highway just keeps going on forever .
our little neighbourhood bakery that had really good local bread, open almost all night because of Ramadan... every night there is a big explosion fireworks to let people know they can eat again :p.
Anyway, I went to bed early, when the beer was through and I found myself a little unbearable again, I slept well and dreamed in soft warm visions of a woman who had loved me and I had said goodbye to, because it didn't feel right and I was still in love with someone else. Maybe it was her, I'm not sure, it might just have been a beautiful vision of being loved again, something I missed... but I woke up still feeling a residue of that dream love, and it did me real good.
We are all loved somehow, by someone...
Excuse me for laying out my inner world so clearly, it's a conscious choice I made, as to make for more human and interesting poetry/prose. It's what I wanna try to do, as I used to leave out a lot of the true experience.
Now today, I took it easy again, because the rain just discourages a person to be out for more than an hour or so. I spent my afternoon in the teahouse again where I have free wifi internet, and I worked some on my pictures and writings, setting up a nicer blog for anyone interested enough to read, this might even end up on there :p. I like writing on trains though... it's a good thing to do when it's too dark to gaze out of the window, something I love dearly too :D.
clement working in the coffeehouse
My day was kind of set within that warmth of love I had dreamed about, and that love shone on in the cosy moments sitting with friends and coffee, having a few tokes of cigarettes, and feeling how nice it is to have people to talk too you really like. Our goodbye was warm and soft, I hugged them.. and we agreed to keep in touch, somehow, somewhere... I'm very forgiving though to those that don't, I know how it goes...
Then I went for another meaty sandwich(I keep doing it and then regretting and blaming myself, a useless thing to do), and walked up to the tram station across the street. A sweet older lady saw me eating and asked if I was hungry, I could sense she wanted to talk... I smiled back and said yes, few minutes later I walked closer and started a conversation, she was called Merita and spoke decent English for a Sarajevan woman of her age. She was retired and on pension, as she called it, and just spent her time sitting in the busstation I guess looking over the nicest part of old town Sarajevo. She felt kind and she told me why she loved Sarajevo and how she was born there. Our conversation turned to language and how beautiful it is that you can translate it all the time, and do games with the meanings of words, it seems to be coming back to me a lot lately. I guess it's the universe giving me good advice about writing..
Anyways, I got to the train station and found that I didn't have enough money for the ticket. I had to run to a cash machine and quick because the train was in 20 minutes.
I made it and now I'm riding and writing and have to stay awake for a transfer I have to make in an hour or so. The battery of this computer seems to be doing good so far but I don't know if it's gonna stay up for another hour. I'm almost finished though with my report of tonight.
It strikes me though how good it feels to make new friends, and how emotionally cleansing good-byes can be, that's when the real stuff comes up, you know.
And it touched me how this old lady gave beauty to a regular old tram stop, loving her town and speaking soft meaningful words that rang in my heart and soul and spoke of a higher meaning in language and words. How holy life and word can be if one is filled with love and awe for them.
It's night now and Emmylou is singing in my ears, I love country. And I think it loves me too.
I really loved Sarajevo, I hope it will still be there when I get back.
Warm nights and soft dreams to all of you lovely beings out there x
Steven
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