The Beads

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She ambles in this ghost town ,

In a collage of colors ,

The lagoon serpents around .

The shadows patches ;

Hinting the brightness of sight

Making a funny composition ,

That make her crave to fly .

 

 

Sitting there lower than the footsteps ,

She listens to the conversation incomprehensible,

The clock keeps ticking ,

The church strikes twelve ,

She doesn’t leave ,

Neither does she stay .

 

 

The beads keep clinking ,

Along with the water that flows ,

The thoughts rolling  ,

Compelling to make them her own .

 

 

Another few minutes ,

Another few decades ,

Of this passing contentment ,

Perching by the window of another ,

She declares this light her home.

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Things left behind .

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“This is the Last boarding call for all the passengers of Egypt air flight M698 flying from Rome Fumincio to Cairo ,all passengers are requested to board from gate G10 ” the heavily accented voice announced . I stood there in that little duty free shop hoping that some force of universe would just make it impossible for me to leave this airport , this place , this country for that matter ! But then again forces of universe are helpul only so far , i gave the boarding card to the bald guy at the gate , automatically mumbling a Grazie.

There are a awful lot of things I know I will miss about this romance (NO! I’m not talking about the roman holiday kind of romance !)This happenstance that happened to me , between the breaking of my phone , clearing of mind and living the place , I fell in love with this country. When I landed in Rome I wanted to keep in touch with a few friends that I thought I couldn’t possibly live without ,and then I dwindled in this two worlds of time difference , all the while gushing to them about my cool life I had in Italy . Then my phone met with an accident ,I cried and mumbled and didn’t know what to do with my hands the first two days .But after I met Dolci (the super cute dog ) and realized I didn’t need my damn phone(although it did take some epic pictures) and just like that I stared living the life of a traveller.

My wanderings became more real because I didn’t have to Whatsapp anybody the pictures . My lunches and dinners weren’t on the basis of the Wi Fi connection but rather on the selection of wines .Italy suddenly became this real person I could converse with and not just a image of a person . There are so many things I could go on and on ….like the opera I went to or the awesomeness of just walking in Milan or the beaches or the silly PDA’s that you see and say “get a room already ”

There is an inexhaustible list of  things that i will not find elsewhere  once I go back , but I  know will miss the machiatto and expresso and ordering the same in Italian .So while I was packing my bags I thought I should say a thank you just to the good side of the universe that got me here in the first place  . I  left my favorite Che Guevara T-shirt in the little 400 year old BnB with a Thank you note for anybody who cares  (yes I have t shirts that I  managed to salvage for the last 8 years )

In this barter of good karma , I  managed to get about 4GB worth of images , an infinite number more in my head , a Moka pot (the most adorable coffee machine in the world!) , a bottle of my favorite proseco and a few words that I still very unconsciously(and not snobbishly at all ) use in the supermarkets here like “si and garzie ” all the while expecting the cashier to understand my garbled words of another language .

Sometimes the best and the hardest thing to do is leave the love of something behind , detach yourself from the false sense of attachments that we otherwise surround ourselves with . So as Italians say  I said a hearty “Grazie Mille” before taking off , only to get a very warm reply of  “Arrivedicci ” . And that is what makes me smile at the end of the day.

Breathe , and then some .

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To be penniless and grinning like a fool ,

To hate this moment here but anticipate another lifetime with you,

The truth remain unsaid this side,

Seeing these shades blend ,

The waves of sensibility peeled away,

 To end this grand scheme with madness,

I try with jargon’s trite .

My words fail me and you ,

 I smile at strangers  ’cause of you .

I am Hungry to …

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I am Hungry to keep you close .
I want to Find the words to resist but in the end there is a locked sphere .The funny thing is that You are not here,Nothing is. -Petrit Halilaj

Something that kept resonating in the empty walls of my head throughout the Venice Biennale . There are so many words that fill this space and yet nothing is tangible. This abstract idea of who you and are and what anything and everything means to be around you.DSCN7445