These days the dialogues I experience change from the perfect time to do laundry to the reasons to stay strong after seeing that your government withdrew from the Istanbul convention. The array is a few shades of grey. Sometimes I also take part in conversations about how impossible it is to do anything creative amidst things that not only drain your inspiration but also actively test your belief in what you do.
The conversations happen between me and myself.
I notice that I hold on so tightly to my conviction to write —to write through this period. But it feels like I am squeezing air in my fist. What I find most chilling is that I don’t feel the urge to scream or break things, as I did before. There is a cold, skin-biting breeze coming from the cracked-open window. It finds me, so calm in its powerfulness. Wraps its fingers around my neck. The screeching frost travels down my chest, to my belly. All I want to do is to get down on my knees. The rest?
Huh. I want only rest.
But I wanted this online space to be one of carefulness, of attention, of curiosity about big and small things that make survival a pleasant experience. So gathering all my strength, I made a list. Sometimes it’s hard to finish sentences; the ending may make you want to obliterate the beginning. I found that bullet-points can bypass that nausea.
Things that are cute:
a small child’s hand on the fur of a big animal
a dog’s compassion-receiving face after it almost choked on a stick
the old man who plays the clarinet by a pond in the park
an unobstructed yawn of a new-born that you witness on a post office queue
dressed up ladies who yelled “Happy Christmas!” and laughed on boxing day
the genius idea to build a blanket fort in the living room as a method to trick your brain into thinking that you're in a different location. 1 square meter island in a 45 square meters ocean
morning cuddles
naming your folding table “cafe la fenêtre” when it’s by the window and has a candle on it
the note taped on the arch of the park’s bridge that says: “hell yeah you rock” (it also has a heart on it)
spotting a great tit finally coming to eat the bird food you hung outside (until magpies scare it off. Or your overly excited stare)
hand-made felt animals that your friend’s mom makes
Hilda. The sweet sweet series from which the above image is taken
that old unflattering photo of you with your friends pre-drinking in a small kitchen (13 miserable months ago)
Things that are not cute:
the guy walking close to you at the supermarket with his mask under his nose
the teenagers who ruin your one traveling-in-the-metro experience by talking too loudly
the moment you notice you are becoming irrevocably grumpy
the pigeon that ruins the flower pots on the balcony, because it’s probably brought a piece of someone else’s pizza and is trying to bury it like a dog
the complete lack of purpose that visits you in the middle of the week, like that neighbor who used to come unannounced and stay too long. … This is a bad metaphor. You miss that neighbor deeply.
putting off the fort idea because, really, what is the difference between being on the couch with a blanket and being on the floor with a blanket?
going through your job application folders and realizing you have far more cover letters than you have rejection emails
some 20-somethings partying next door while you gave up on “zoom drinks” months ago
Bonus:
Things I didn’t notice I missed horribly until 2 days ago:
sunsets
Let me know what “cute” or “non-cute” things you notice in your life in the comments below.
cute:a jumping fish from smooth sea surface on a windless day
non-cute,seeing the face of prsdnt on each channel