The words I want to write seem much more sparkling and clear when ornamenting my mind than they do when they become written words on the screen. The abstract and aesthetic emotions are converted into linguistics, and that process is of downsizing. And this is a tough reality because I do want to write a book. A book that will be composed of linguistics - not of colors in my brain. And therefore I must exercise my ability to enrich my language and upgrade it to be more closely linked to the shapeless words my imagination conjures. Oh, the depths and beauty my brain creates! The liquidy connections between people, time and place - the morphing together it does of different things - these are so sensical and sensual and yet so hard to describe in the same romantic light in which they appear in the mind! I know I daydream of places and people that I seem to miss, and by seeing images of people, I want to be close to them; perhaps I want to be like them - for a moment - for a while - to restart my life and be a different me, with a different life. To be younger, that's for sure. To have another shot at my twenties. Watching other people's lives, in their own words or in the images that facebook brings me, cultivates in me jealousy and longing both at once. But what is the essence? The longing? I have always been a longing creature. Longing for things that only became things from afar, perhaps. Things that at the time were just lost and jagged moments like this one right now in front of my screen. But nonetheless I want them. I want to feel meaning, and I lean over the screen, looking for it, stacking sadness and jealousy and longing and lust for life, looking around me, and through these emotions seeing all that lies inside this home, inside this life...
It's not just that, though. It goes deeper. It's like waiting for your loving partner to come home, or like being in a warm snuggly gathering space with friends, while it's raining outside, for instance. So like that, just many times more. Because I've been so lucky as to have three loving partners in the past, whose warmth I still await in a sense, and I've had numerous occasions of gathering with friends, and whether it rained or not I don't even remember, but for the sake of aesthetics and imagery we can pretend it always rains out and that we are always snuggly warm inside, right? So that's it. It's a million hugs waiting outside the door. In fact, outside the door of time. Because in reality they are from a different time-frame. But in the mind, all times are one.
Isn't that so?
And still -- I am so grateful, to be here with Tal.