Romante si nostalgie

It was a chance encounter. I like to tell myself that I stumbled upon him, but the fact of the matter is that he was there waiting for me. Waiting for my eager fingers and eyes. Waiting for my shallow cover to crack. Waiting for my curiosity to peek under his own cover. I fell in love years ago with a simple string of words. With the nostalgia. With the biting replies. With the sarcasm. And then I forgot. I came back to him on lonely Friday nights. Like the ungrateful lovers he often talks about. Only there to satisfy a moment's itch. Only remembering because of a chance encounter of the eyes. He probably deserves more. More than a dusty shelf in a forgotten library. I probably deserve more than this person I'm becoming. I should probably dig deeper than the same two pages that I almost know by heart by now. The books you read are a reflection of who you are. But who am I if I barely ever read anymore? Maybe it's time I give Minulescu a thorough read. He deserves it. And so do I.

Traveling (in time, space and my mind)

If a time machine were ever invented the three places that I would like to visit would be:

1. Ancient Grece: I could die for a chance to meet Aristotle and Socrates. I would like to know how they did it. How they managed to pour all those thoughts out of their heads, how they could live through reason and reason alone. But most importantly, how did they manage to never doubt their reasoning. How did they know that they weren't being biased by their own experiences? Did they travel a lot? Were they particularly observant? How did they get to know human beings and life so well? Because whenever I try to reason, the only conclusion that I arrive to is that I know practically nothing. And I feel the compulsive need to run to the nearest library for I feel that the confines of my mind and my experience are too limiting for any valid thought to come out of there.

2. Medieval Europe: Just for the chance to go to a monastery. I don't know what monasteries are like these days, but in that time, monks were the only ones who could read and write. Therefore, in that time, a monastery was like a library in the middle of the woods and at the top of a hill. And, since lately I have been craving this separation from the world and the peace and tranquility that I think would come out of cutting all contact with your acquaintances, while nonetheless feeling the need for a source of reference and knowledge, I think that a medieval monastery would be the right place for me. A spiritual, but more importantly reflective retreat. Something of the sort of The Name of the Rose. Without the murders of course. And maybe without the mud. I don't know, do the Middle Ages come in the mud-free package?

3. Ancient Egypt: In particular, the library of Alexandria. I actually had to think about this one. I was hesitating between the beginning of the XXth century (meet and talk to Sartre, Camus and all the other french existentialists), ancient China, the Renaissance, etc. But somehow, all of these can be found either through travels or through books. However, ancient knowledge that has been forever lost is not something you can read about. And I could very well go to the new library in Alexandria, but it's hardly the same thing considering that the original scripts no longer exist. So yeah, I'd like to see the original library of Alexandria. Even though I'd probably be incapable of reading anything there, but being in that type of place does have a certain appeal.



And why is this song here? I honestly don't know. It's incredibly stupid when you take the time to listen to the lyrics. But it's also very sweet. Makes me think of an olive tree on an Italian hillside. I wonder if you can grow olive trees in Canadian weather. Probably not. What could ever survive in this wretched weather except maybe rocks and grass. Maybe that's why people are so fond of their lawns... Or maybe it's just the suburban way of thinking... and I'm rambling. Oooookkk, it's time for bed. Over and out.

Old friends

Everyone has a special place where they go when they feel down or when everything just gets too overwhelming. Whether it's a shopping mall or a park or just your own room, it has that magical ability to calm you down and make you feel safe.

For me that place is a library, as dorky as that may sound. There's just something about the concept of a room filled with shelves and shelves of books that you can just pick up and dive into, that's soothing and comforting. The minute you walk through the door, your troubles and anxieties fade away and then it's just you and the pages. There's a strange feeling of promise, of understanding and of excitement that runs through your veins. No more deception. No one there to judge you. No one you need to please. Sometimes you don't even need to pick up a book and read it. Just going through the seemingly endless shelves, looking at the titles and the summaries is enough.

A library is something that you could always come back to because it has no beginning and no ending. You don't need to train in order to use it, there's no effort required and the first time you walk in, it feels like you've spent your entire life there. You will also never be able to read everything that it contains so you will never run out of possibilities.

Did you notice that a library never feels cold? It's a place where you can be alone even when hundreds of people surround you. It's a place that blocks any thoughts and feelings that are not calm and peaceful. It's home.