Childhood dreams and childhood hopes. Wishes and desires all mingled in a tight ball of thin thread, so delicate that it can unwind at any moment, which will eventually happen in different places at various moments in time. When you stop being a child, when dreams stop being filled with blue butterflies and pink roses, when reality starts keeping you grounded to the world, you see pieces of thin thread being blown away by a cruel wind. And you finally wake up, reality is knocking hard at your door, making it impossible for you to keep dreaming and wishing for something better. You are here and you are alone and that is how it will always be...
There is no one to keep you company, to hold your hand while passing through this world, to wipe your tears or to support you when you are falling.
Loneliness is miserable, is destructive, it eats you from the inside, little by little until all your doubts overwhelm you.
You reach the end, and you sit there, at the edge of the abyss, trying to look beyond the darkness down there, and you can't decipher anything; you are scared and you are crying and wish for someone to put his arms around you and whisper in your ear that everything is going to be fine... but you don't feel strong arms embracing you... you don't feel anything so you close your eyes, tears coursing down your face; and you fall...

[photo: www.muhabire.blogcu.com/2260205]

I love rain. Pure and simple...
You close your eyes and you can feel the raindrops on your skin, running down your cheeks, falling on your lips, tracing the contours of your face. It's refreshing, it's a way of releasing everything you keep bottled up inside of you, it makes you more calm, more peaceful. It's almost like you have been screaming for the last hour from the top of a hill. Rain has a cleansing effect on your body. Like all your mistakes are washed away, leaving behind a new you, a better you.
Have you ever walked through a park after it had just rained? Have you ever breathed in the air? Could you feel it? It is like a new begging, a new start in life, a new chance to do better, to become something.
You're free...For a few seconds, minutes, moments you are loose and disconnected from all the problems in the world, from all your problems.
Breathe in deep and then come back to the cruel reality, 'cause the sun is coming back from behind a cloud. The dream is over...for now.

[photo: www.s299.photobucket.com/albums/mm320/amyannettecisse/?action=view&current=fantasy-6.jpg]

I was sitting with a friend on the pavement at one in the morning, when he started talking about this toys that we used to play with when we were children: a gun with small colorful balls as ammunition. And then I had this flashback, with me standing in front of a fence and talking with a childhood friend. We were neighbors at my grandmother's house and we used to play together. Ever since he moved next door, I remember wishing we could spend more time with each other. I was so shy back then and didn't have the courage to go and play with him, and on the rare occasions when we did, it was the best time I ever had.
He died six years later, when I was about twelve or thirteen, after 3 years of paralysis. The last time I saw him, we were playing cards in his room, he was paralyzed on the left side of his body and was holding his cards with his right hand.
At the funeral, I didn't have the strength to see him lying in the coffin. In a way it is better to remember him the way he was.
On the other hand, I will always regret sitting alone in my room, because I didn't have the guts to ask his mother if he wanted to play with me.

For an old friend, I miss you...

[photo: www.flickr.com/photos/meervahl/2160340686/]

I am conscious of the fact that we are in the middle of a hot Summer day right now, but as my best friend told me the other day, when I might have mentioned that I am knitting a scarf, I am a little bit crazy; but I can't remember exactly...
In hope for a cold winter day I started reminiscing my fist cold season spent in Bucharest. And the conclusion that I reached after 3 months in hell is that this city is the worst place to be in when it snows. It's dirty and muddy and sinister. You leave the comfort of your warm home for a scenery that creates repulsion. When you look down, it's dirty, the snow is stained, it's dark from all the dirt, it's already half melted(but not enough to not be there) and full of footprints and paw prints. It's dark and ugly and slippery.
If you look up, you are greeted with bare trees, no leaves, no life; they seem to want to touch a sky that's gray and dark and clouded.
You left your home for this sight that is sad and pitiful, you left that warmth to be shoved, sworn at, pushed, ambushed, to fall, to get dirty; for the smells and for the noises.
You wish you could be on an isolated land, where the snow is untouched, pure and white, where there is no mud or dirt. You want to make snow angels and look at a white and luminous sky that reminds you of a long forgotten childhood, with a pine forest in the background that is neither bare nor lifeless and a small house, a home that has smoke coming out of it's chimney. Then it starts snowing slow and pure and everything is quiet and perfect.
And then a car honks at you to move, because its passengers are in a hurry. And you do just that, because you have to face rush hour at the subway, and to get to college on time, in a desolated Bucharest.

[photo: www.jacketflap.com/megablog/index.asp?blogid=568]

How much time do we waste waiting for someone to show up or for something to happen?! Does anyone even know anymore?
We wait in long endless lines to buy things, to get the best product or the cheapest one. We wait for the weather to clear out so we can leave the house, we wait for the phone to ring, for him to call, for time to pass, so we can watch something or go somewhere. We are in a continuous wait for the next moment and the next and the next, because it would hopefully bring something new, something better, anything that will break the habit, the pattern, the endless circle in which we all got so wrapped up. We are in hope for a better tomorrow, a tomorrow that may never come, and probably never will, because while we are sitting here expecting ... what?, we don't even know ourselves anymore; time flies by, the present is always wasted waiting...for a change.

[photo: www.jacketflap.com/megablog/index.asp?blogid=568]

Do you remember when we were children and used to blow dandelions?
They would fly around us in a mesmerizing dance... you could close your eyes and imagine yourself being carried away by the wind, just like them, carefree. They were so delicate. I always saw them as images of hope. Hope in that last seed that would not go away, no matter how hard you tried.

[photo: www.lightnightrains.blogspot.com/2007/10/illustration-friday-open.html]

As a little girl I thought of blue butterflies and pink roses, the time has passed fast, mostly without me noticing it and the butterflies transformed into nymphs that haven't yet undergone the final metamorphosis. In the end, the result will be an adult with lost childhood dreams, a bitter-sweet taste for everything past and an inclination for white tulips and red poppies.

[photo: www.brushpaintingcircle.com/greeting_cards/02_Singles/blue_butterfly.jpg]

My status image is from: www.majeakann.wordpress.com/2008/01/31/dragons-fly-like-me/.