diary4586

today, as i returned home in the airplane, i met a woman. she sat near me and for an hour, we didn’t talk to each other and i was going to sleep for a while. i closed the book i was reading, it was Totto-chan by Tetsuko Kuroyanagi, gifted to me by a wonderful friend. she smiled and said she adored that book, how softly yet powerfully it speaks of freedom of expression, and how important it is to develop the child’s creative spirit since early years. i said i don’t have children, but find it very useful for activity in the sphere of education. i often get numb when strangers begin to talk to me. but it didn’t happen. and we suddenly began to talk to each other as if we knew each other for a long time. she told me about her life, that she’s 42 years old and lived in many places in Russia. she brought up five children, two of them are orphans left alone after her cousin’s death, and almost all of her life except two recent years were spent amid poverty, illnesses and various difficulties. yet she managed to collect a big library of books and keep a joyous and playful spirit in spite of anything. there was so much light radiating from her, her eyes shining and her perfume reminding of summer emerald fields in central Russia. i didn’t tell much about personal life, but without an explanation she understood and we were ok with that. we talked about other books, bright sunsets on Black sea, magical dawns on Baltic sea, favorite songs. she told me about her childhood during USSR years, and the effect the USSR collapse had on her as a teenager. we talked for three hours, but time flew so fast that we kept on talking when we left the plane. when it was time to part, we hugged and exchanged phone numbers to meet again, as we live in the same area. i caught a taxi and as i was riding home, i realized that my heart’s heaviness is gone. as if butterflies of a beautiful cloud meadow decided to move their dwelling into my heart. i couldn’t stop smiling. i don’t know if we meet again, but it was the conversation i won’t forget. and also, there was something so familiar about her as if we met each other in another life. thank you for that, universe. and if you hear me, send her more happiness because she deserves it.

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diary 4585

quiet on the outside, as always.
but there are screams through blood vessels.
screams without a sound, yet still screams.

mixed with flashbacks to shattering. and i can’t
decipher their messages. i close my eyes
and try to realize where they come from
and what they try to deliver,
but there are too many at the same time.
i’m sure some of them are not harmful,
but those are lost in a cacophony.

i begin to dance and it is gone.
but then somebody occasionally touches me,
or holds my hand for more than several minutes,
or i hear a specific sound, and it begins again.
even after the therapy, even together with
beautiful souls that surround me in life.
i want to keep on staying with them when it begins,
but i fall out of life, and i know
they see it in my eyes even though i try to hide it.
i hate myself in those moments.

sometimes, i think that the stronger
my body is, the louder this ghostly frailty is
and the more it tries to fight the body’s strength.
i’m afraid that once those voices shall become so loud
that i’ll go mad. i know i’ll never be violent
to others, but i’m afraid i can go suicidal
and this will hurt people i love just the same.
or if i become too strong,
some accident happens so
i’ll be shattered, and
won’t be gathered again.

that’s why dance is much more than dance for me.
dance is freedom, the erasure of harmful thoughts
and screams. i’m deeply grateful to be able to dance.

i write because i’m able to dance.

prayer

dear universe,
i’m such a mess right now, and it feels like losing the view of my path.
i never want to bring ache to anyone. i only want to bring some joy into the world, to be someone helpful for my dear people and soothe the pain of aching hearts, even for a little bit.
all i ask is to give me a bit more strength to cope with current life challenges.
с любовью.

где-то

звон колокола
ясен и глубок
в дымке тумана

и вечер разливает
пламенный янтарь
из тайного ларца

даже слова ушли

ведь в храме все итак в свечах

 

diary 4583

today, when it began to snow very early in the morning, i went out alone.
it was quiet across a maple alley. peaceful, empty and quiet. the sky was gently grey, with only a hint of soaring clouds. i stood there, almost motionless, for half an hour or so. whispering old Russian poems into snowflakes.
they listened, i know. because it felt simple and effortless and beautiful. so beautiful that i began to cry. i felt the snow’s embrace. and the soul of snow cried with me. i wanted to thank the snow with some special words, but didn’t know how. i didn’t know words that would be enough to express gratitude that i felt. so i just smiled looking at sky, and went home..

 

White cosmos flower

beauty ❤

caramel caramelo

Falling asleep, I close my eyes tightly wishing to wake up as a white cosmos flower.

Like the one I saw today, I will be most delicate and sway with laughter in a field of white and pink. I will turn towards the deep blue sky of autumn, and laugh some more as the sun warms me.

The cold wind will blow and I will flutter while it scatters my petals. I will then die knowing that after the winter months, I will come back as a delicate white cosmos flower swaying and laughing in the wind in an immense field under the deep blue sky.

Kenza.

Inspired by the change of season and simple natural beauty.

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