BETWEEN TWO LUNGS

It took millions of years for evolution to build me a rib-cage. To protect my heart. One of my lungs sacrificed  its size for my heart to be stationed there, comfortable, warm and un-harmfully hugged. When it sacrificed its area it also sacrificed the volume of my breath intake to feed my every dividing cell. I remember when I had gills and a tale. In those days everything started to grow rapidly in order to surround my heart, and hold it there in the middle, biting the life into me.

It is soft and fragile. It is no bone and filled with no marrow. But with a red liquid containing iron. The iron that collects oxygen from my masochistic lungs. Making my chest go wider with every breath I take. With every hope.

My heart, all tender and sweet has been bruised by ones before you. I know how a bruise forms. Also, it contains secrets and heartaches. It holds too, a corner, a very small corner for the sins I will never commit but somehow thought of already. It contains my loses and my prides. From when the boy across the street cut my Barbie's hair, when I got the school certificate with top marks, when the organizer of the tournament put the gold medal over my head leaving it to hang over my not yet developed girl boobs,  to when he left me crying and dancing alone to the songs of the past. It contains my regrets and dreams. When I realized I would not get into university to strongly believing that my hands are shaped to hold and re-live another person's heart. It contains all my 'what ifs' and my insecurities. My loves.

Evolution took such long time to make my anatomy as fit for survival as for feeling the pains and tickles, heat and colds. It made my chromosomes combine perfectly and all my enzymes find their match. My helix makes a beautiful spiral and my atoms float and let float through me wonderfully. I am perfect and there is no one truer than me than myself in this body containing this crooked soul coated with the skin that is resilient to the winds and the sun.

I may be made from flesh and blood, add here H2O, but don't forget that my heart is pumping  iron through all my body reaching every limb, every tip of toes and fingers, all the way up to my jealous brain. I may be flesh and blood but I am stronger than I think I am, and no matter how many times I fall, I will rise again.

My heart is my source, my life, my everything and what does make you think I will serve it to you on a silver plate? My ears can disappoint and let your words undress me, but you'd have to posses the skills and wear a halo of my hero to win my heart and illuminate me whole.

And only then I will be your lamb.

LANGUAGE IN WHICH 'ME' IS CAPITAL

i learned English, so i became. My dreams and daydreams are reviling themselves in English before my inner eye. My thoughts are forming themselves in English. i am in love with the language, with the words and the sentences they make and voids they fill in me. Like the sea fills the voids of the earth. What water gave me is what paper gave me too. Life. Self. The self i am so sure of, for if i had to understand it or explain it, is like water slipping through my fingers. Forever trying to catch it, banding my back and the sound of it breaking under the weight of the feeling. Forever searching.

i learned English and i learned that me has to be capital 'I'. So I became. I became capital, self-important, egoistic, selfish and kind. The only way I can be. I can only be selfishly kind. No return of the same does not hurt me. Because the I is like a temple that lets light through the windows withholding the Venetian glass, dressing me in all divine colours, painting my story where I write people in and write people out. Forever trying to catch the light and trace its points to their origin, but it splits and bends. Mirrors on the walls for the light to reflect. Maybe I am not ready for the answer. Forever searching.

I am the narrative. The only way I can be. Filled with words not facts. That is how I can create and change. How I make my realities which are not matter based and nothing is relevant. Where creatures can steal time, shape it and have a leap year every year. My sense is making itself and my body is silence I keep breaking.

Words help me express. Unyielding structures of my emotions. Writing them down, I empty my skull. Words keep making me who I think I might be. When I read a verse of a genius that seems indifferent to judgement and criticism but cares only of getting his message across, butterflies in my tummy go mental. When I hear profoundly spoken my eyes tear up. I too discovered the beauty of the language that fills the pages of all the books I keep putting against the walls, on the stairs, in the shelves and on the high of my wardrobe full of drawers containing secret compartments. I changed as a by-product of Shakespeare and many before him and those after him.

I love in English. First time I fell in love was in English. Now, I can only say 'I LOVE YOU'  and mean it. Be fully committed to those three words. And now, I love an English man.

THE TRUTH

Bite down on the truth between your teeth.

Is it soft? Is it melting? Is it as cold as the ice on the lake?
Is it bitter, is it sweet?

Does it race like a steam train down your throat,
all self-righteous and proud? Or does it float
like a leaf on the surface of the sea, a thousand

miles from the solid ground? Is the truth round
like ball? Can you roll it up with strength and loss
and soul, and make it into something that

holds fast? Can you make it as strong as bone,
as unyielding as structure, can you make the truth
last?

-Unknown-  

ONE HAPPY GIRL

Didn't give a shout for a long time so here is a scream. A recapture of past events, and today's.

Honestly, last few weeks have been crazy busy with social gatherings and outgoings, making empty excuses to myself how I should enjoy my full calendar and write later whilst the guilt of 'writing comes first, friends, cinema, etc afterwards' was doing my head. Then I reminded myself that I do not have guilt and should enjoy the moment and do what makes me happy, as I have always.

I made a schedule for my writing and am trying to stick to it, its a good one! I am trying to catch up on Book  Club readings and still read what I want. We went for a dinner in THE best Indian restaurant on the island with Jo, Drew, Camila & Paddy. I made the worst birthday cake for E. Heart-attack on a plate. Waste of sugar and pinabutter. Was an awesome afternoon. Had a fall out with my man and he got me flowers. My first flowers! Screamed 'surprise' at Denise's surprise birthday party which came handy as I couldn't make it to her birthday lunch the next day. At the party was too honest when speaking how a girl's brain works. Mattias was shocked.  He learned something. Attended Runway fashion show in support of my best Jo. She was fabulous! Attending the show actually made me feel something. After the shows were over, live band played-new kids with the kicks- I like. Felt that was the place I wanted to be in that moment. Went for over-due lunch with Pavli. By the way, started writing for her again. And did my first interview with her.On Tuesday last week wore my best dress and made my man fall in love with me again. Cindarella had shoes, Tea has THE dress. We went to a Thai restaurant, waaay overpriced but my prawns were evil delicious. And a drink at MedAsia afterwards. On Friday was E's birthday party. Danced my night away with Jo & Ana like in the good old days. The next day was St. Petrick's where I got the chance to wear green trousers. Watched my first game of rugby and fell in love with the sport. What took me so long! Managed to date a captain of the rugby team and still didn't know that the ball was egg shaped and that they don't score 'touch-downs', also there is an invisible line called 'bridge' or something in those lines. #10 of England's team. Yam! On Sunday was Inga's wedding. Can't believe one of us actually did it! She was beautiful and my boyfriend told me I was beautiful too. Bought me a diary.

But not all is fun & games. Yesterday was bad & ugly. A blue day for me. I felt broken, empty and blaaah. What I love the most about days like that is having that someone to turn it and make it better. S took me  again to that Indian restaurant and afterwards we just lied in bed, listening to the radio and laughing. Now, I fell in love again. Plus today, as I am off, went for an early coffee with Milja and got some much needed vitamin D which made me feel alive once again. The return of enthusiasm and will to celebrate life and its little wonders. A will to run for the president of T's club where I am the chairman too and the only member where  I campaign on taking over the world with positive thinking and kindness. Waiting for summer to come when summer is already in me!

I feel so happy today! I feel like me! I feel like I am in love and in love with the feeling. If I had wings I would fly!

WHERE DO IDEAS COME FROM?

I’ll tell you where from. They come from the ages before, where years have been working on it for a long, long time. Man try to improve it, steal it and call it inspiration/research. Ideas come from a peripheral, from subconsciousness. From spirits, parallel universes over the curves of the rainbows on wings of a pegasus. They come on a sunny day from the sky above blown by a divine breeze that entangles into your hair and whispers into your ear. They come from deep, deep sadness. They come with the sea, brought by a mighty tide when you are standing on the edge, next to the lighthouse without that lonely feeling. Ideas come from magic corners of artist’s heart where they were sleeping on a bed of feathers and abstract visions. They come from a dream, then you wake up to paint the dream. They come from child’s innocence and its eyes seeing the world for the first time. They come from your fingertips when you hold on to a pan, in front of you a blank page full of opportunities,they come from your limbs when making art. They wake up when you smell freshly cut grass after summer’s rain. And morning coffee. They come from Polaroid pictures. From ballerina's graciousness. And when you find a meaning of a word.They sneak up on you at 2 in the morning. They come from bone marrow and great conversations.  

Pavli Style :: love &s : what if :

Pavli Style :: love &s : what if :