“One morning a new friend appeared at the sidewalk table, unassumingly sitting beside Maurice and carefully reading the menu before softly doing the orders with a flowing smile at the end. Her dark hair was shimmering in the sun, and a careful but withdrawn sparkle was hiding in her eyes. He immediately felt a bit dizzy.”
“He went to bed, and as he turned off the lights the mind kept working on the change that he had felt today, four or five different groups of thoughts that kept growing and moving in different parts of his head, making sleep a bit difficult that night. As the dreams started to glide in between the groups and disrupting the faintly crackling knots of bustling activity, like little dams of oily purple water, filled with dispersed images of memories from the day that just passed and mixed with random scenes from forgotten parts of his young life and adolescence, then the next second just silence, then again the purple water spreading on a surface, he slowly lost track of what the topics were all about, or even why he wanted to think about them or why they had been there in the first place. Soon it was all gone and just a floating mesh of incoherent emotions and memories took over. By the time he got back to his senses and had regained some consciousness of what this was all about, a little strip of sunshine had again started to seep downwards on the wall, while another one was sliding over the duvet and onto the pillow, and a third one touched his arm and spread a warm intense feeling throughout his body, opening his eyes very carefully in wonder, before closing them quickly again and sliding the sun-touched arm softly back underneath the duvet.”
“One day when he lived there he woke up a bit early. Outside there was a thin layer of snow, and the sun was carefully trickling through the curtains and made a glowing line of bright yellow on the soft carpet next to the bed. The air was transparent with small shining particles slowly descending into the small strip of light, and a calm and refreshing silence filled the room.
These mornings were one among his favorites. It always gave him a good start on a bright new day.
At times life could be a long string of days like that, fresh and crisp, with subtle beauty and little wonders of nature like the tiny soft snow flakes covering the streets and roof tops. The sun shining a warm blanket over the village, and some scattered points of chimney smoke carefully dissolving into the blue skies, with some small groups of birds gliding over the neighborhoods. The river silently drawing a thin blue line through the village, and the horizons a bit waving in the contrasts over a cold arid landscape and the slowly warming skies.
These beautiful scenes had been repeated thousands of times over the centuries, with the little village growing from nothing into a bustling little town, and seeing the constant flow of lifetimes coming and going, some in silence and some in turmoil, some in joy and some in ease, some in hardships and some in unfairness, some in absence while others in presence, all with the flow of kings and mayors, wars and peace, philosophical strains of humanity, bigger events in history and nature, and the ever relentless passing of time and change.”
“Then at times, the wide open horizons unfolded in life once again. A sudden change, a little trip, a change of scenery, some mountains or lakes or open fields of beautiful scenery, some peaceful animals and rolling hills and fresh air.
It could be blended into the usual habits and rituals of daily life, peaceful hours of reading or staying in touch with old friends, easy chats or deep interesting talks with new people, a quiet walk in modest nature, or sipping the coffee carefully from a new cup in a new place, or the same one for a while, a cup you had gotten a bit familiar with over some days, or some months, or perhaps even one with strong emotions connected to it, from the person who gave it to you, the time you bought it, or some specific talks or moments which were still quietly and firmly a part of the cup – and subtly remembered or felt at times clearly, but mostly unconsciosly but slightly influencing the mood or the tenor of the feelings, silently infusing some tiny blobs of emotions, briefly felt but sometimes lingering for hours, adding some little color or aspect to the perception of the world, to how you see and feel the room around you, or how you experience the people and streets, the sounds, and your own thoughts.”
He finally got up from his chair, carefully put some bills under the coffee cup, and slowly walked towards the main entrance of the park. The afternoon was coming closer and he wanted to go home before the later part of the day started. The shadows were getting just a little bit longer, the sunlight a bit more warm and golden, and a wonderful peace was resting over the whole park. The barista smiled to him again, a little “Thank you”, and then “See you later”. He thanked, and waved, and kept on walking. Still not knowing that the big and life-changing moment that day, was about to arrive.