Spain

Spain for me equals Barcelona as that is the only Spanish city I have seen, and I can’t imagine any other city that will be more magnificent. Yes, I am thinking about Gaudi. I fell in love with him with the first of his buildings I laid my eyes on. When I think about Gaudi, I don’t imagine his face, as I don’t even remember what he looked like on the photographs in the Gaudi Museum. I think of that glorious feeling of being inside an enormous sea shell, looking up at its mother-of-pearl walls and ceilings. The refraction of light in Sagrada Familia, offering a different experience with each visit, brings the presence of the divine.
Making and eating some of the Spanish dishes was a delight, despite of the fact that we kept it really simple this time. The dessert, again, was a novelty for me.

Sewing your heart onto the pavement

A new sawing machine staring at me
Like a horse that needs to be tamed.
It’s not about the horse being wild,
but about the rider,
hiding the fear of falling off the saddle,
remembering how to enjoy the breeze.

Patience and long hours
of pulling the bundles of fabric from the drawers,
from boxes under the bed,
the ribbons, the buttons,
the tailor’s scissors,
the measuring tape.
Deciding to do something new
now when the kids are grown up,
when the work doesn’t have to be reduced
to mending and zipper replacement.

I discover the joy of upcycling,
an opportunity for second life,
rebirth,
manifesting that there could be beauty again,
instead of it destined to a landfill.
Isn’t that what we all want,
another chance?
to take life less seriously,
to imagine the moment,
to do it differently this time,
take another road forward,
to erase at least one of ifs.

if I hadn’t fallen in love with you,
if I hadn’t said yes on August 2nd
if I had told you about the dream of me in black
if you hadn’t left home that morning in January,
if it hadn’t been cold, foggy and icy
If your blood had stayed in its vessels,
Instead of flooding your body.
If I hadn’t opened the door to receive the news,
If…

Humming, whirring, clanking
Thousands of thousands of steps on pavements,
of different cities,
stitching the days,
leaving and arriving
sometimes just strolling – stitch #4,
zipping up the pain,
breaking at seams.

if I had said the second yes
to divorcing, braking up another family
to build my happiness,
I couldn’t make a house
standing on the hole.
If I hadn’t said no to being a lover,
but not wife,
to expand instead of shrinking and turning inside;
if I had been stronger to stay and fight the demons
If there hadn’t been anyone on the other side of the phone
when I cried: save us!

If I had been weak,
let the water take me
like a paper boat giving in to the waves of the Pacific,
If I hadn’t set the alarm every morning,
running to catch a bus
instead of staying in bed and sleep,
just sleep…

Humming, whirring, clanking
Thousands of thousands of steps on pavements,
of different cities,
stitching the days,
leaving and arriving
sometimes just strolling – stitch #4
zipping up the pain,
breaking at seams.

snip, snip of scissors and the hum of the sewing machine.
ta-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa
wrrr
lub dub, lub, dub – like a heartbeat in the night
a pillow, a purse, another pillow,
a duffle bag, a quilt,a scrap onto a scrap
sewing my heart onto the concrete,
kilometers of a strong thread,
a gift from Ariadne,
that helps me get back home.