...Taking Over Barcelona

Barcelona, April 2010

And, believe me, it was !

It was six days of lazy bliss, blinding sun, drawings, sketch books, poems, Antoni Gaudi, lunches in our favorite restaurant next to the beach, psychedelic architecture all over the place, little souvenirs we bought in tiny boutiques of Le Barri Gotic, football match excitement (given that both of us are not even remotely football fans, we sort of joined the gang by osmosis... perhaps, a few pints of beer had something to do with that), random jokes, hysterical laughter, epic quotes, street music at the seashore, happy idling, the nights when we were at the beach smoking cigars and talking about everything, songs we discovered and rediscovered through each other, those girlish moments of shopping together, and dancing in and out of the fitting rooms, and giggling, and not thinking about the money being spent, and taking pictures, and getting lost three times a day on average, and feeling completely exhausted from heat and walking by the end of the day, yet being so innocently purely happy...

And that almost childish lack of seriousness - apart from those times when we had to remember to buy something for breakfast...

And getting completely pissed on all the cocktails and liqueurs imaginable the night before waking up at 5 AM for the plane, and feeling totally knackered on the way back...

"I totally love our diet ! And you ?" That's what she said. Eating churros.

It was a holiday to remember.

For you, my sunshine : Bob Dylan - Catch The Wind

Two Russians...

Barcelona, April 2010

We just randomly decided to go on holiday to Spain. It took about 20 minutes to book the tickets, and around three weeks to get so tired of school that we didn't even realize we were on holiday until the morning of our second day in Barcelona. We slept on the train, read some random magazines we picked up at the airport on the plane, got lost looking for our lovely little hotel practically at the seashore...

Our first meeting with Barcelona was at the Plaça Catalunya, when we got off the bus, loaded with suitcases and slightly stricken by the heat (no, you cannot blame us, we came from France, after all), craving for a cup of coffee. That's when we saw the balloons. And the sun. The real, blinding, gorgeously bright sun. I think that's when we both knew instantly this holiday would be the one to remember...

24 Hours

Dijon, April 2010

What can 5 people do in 24 hours ? Honestly - everything. Travel around the world, for instance. Or else, stock up on Red Bull, a selection of exciting texts on Turkish politics, chocolate, cigarettes, a few alarm clocks, and write a research paper on... wait for it !... "Typologie des 25 membres de l'UE selon deux critères : le niveau de soutien à l'UE et le degré de rejet de l'adhésion de la Turquie à l'UE". I know, I know.

The process itself was all a bit of a blur, actually. I just remember getting home at 1 AM with the only word popping into my head every 4 seconds - "thesis". The first years counting hours till the end, some delirious dream about Kemal Ataturk chasing me with a fire extinguisher, us, getting rather sardonic at the end of the paper itself, and even sticking in some "thees" and "dosts", our desperate need of a stapler... Frankly, I'm surprised we didn't decide to end it with "Amen".

And then, at 6 PM, that feeling of relief... And noticing it's warm and sunny, that it's actually spring, and that we're now on vacation. Laughing, running from one room to another, listening to loud, really loud music, stumbling over half-packed suitcases in the middle of the room, ice-cream, completely legitimate laziness, beer with Staind, talking about holiday destinations, and poems, and parties coming up, letting someone listen to songs on the phone, then falling asleep at 3 AM, chatting with your best friend... That can happen in even less than 24 hours.

Luckily for us.

Cigarette Ash

Twilight, the final scene

Sometimes all you want is to spend some time alone. Some rarely do it, others - all the time. According to Albert Einstein, "solitude is painful when one is young, but delightful when one is more mature". Those who enjoy it when they are actually 18-20 years old, they are just depressed ? Lost ? Way too thoughtful for their age ? And what if there is someone in this world who would like to replace solitude for them ? Let them sign ?...

Streets at night are normally empty. At least, in Dijon. Even if it's Saturday night. Unintentionally, you start walking faster. Not because you're scared. Just because there is no one whose stride you could follow by your side.

Puerto Rico

There are so many places in the world I know for sure I will never be able to visit. So many dreams that won't come true. So many people I will not meet. So many lives that will never cross with mine, so many languages I will not speak, so many pieces of art I will not be able to admire, so many sunsets on the sea I will never be able to appreciate...

When I was a kid, I saw Contact by Robert Zemeckis, starring Jodie Foster and Matthew McConaughey. My father showed me the famous Arecibo Observatory on Google Earth. And my secret dream ever since was to see it in flesh... At least the observatory itself, because I know I'll never be able to reach the stars I idolize and worship. And for some reason it doesn't really bring me down. It just leaves a soft trace of melancholia mixed with my often unbearable even for myself idealistic perception of everything. Apart from that, Inside It All Feels The Same.

Picture : Omega Nebula

"Melancholia Designed For Your Mysterious Face"

Would you ever forgive Something Like Me ?

Pictures : Snejana O., Regina F., Ilona I., Alexandra P., Elena V.

"We're Actually The Same Person, With Different Sexes"

Remember Me

"For some reason you seem to get it out of me".

It would be too peculiar if I said everything from the start.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing".

"Don't believe it".

It was already enough to have the same exact tastes in too many things, to understand each other without words, to feel each others moods, to know what to say, when to say and how to say it without even asking before.

"Read my mood through Skype, eh ? Impressive".

I might be wrong.

I might be right.

Nevertheless...

"I understand".

Once on Sunday, in June, many years ago, for the first time ever I was sharing my soul with somebody, with the same person yet of the opposite sex. And 400 days later I was left alone.

400 days later I was left alone...

"I have a feeling there's a bit of me in there".

I do not claim to own you. You cannot really say you own me. Yet somehow I know in the middle of summer you might recall that it's also an Anniversary of an Uninteresting Event.

Masterpiece

Brussels by night, December 2008

We hardly sleep. We're too addicted to nights, to what they bring, to what they reveal. To what they have to say.

"The sun descending in the west, the evening star does shine; the birds are silent in their nest. And I must seek for mine...".

William Blake

"This reminds me of something".

Perhaps of the fact that some of us are still lost ?...

Lost Along The Way.

Juvenile

...And I was claiming myself to be mature. No, I still cry like a child, hiding my face in my hands so that no one can see me. Oddly enough, even when I'm alone.

Speaking of hands, I really do have a kitsch for them. It most probably comes from the early 1990s when I... no, "the early 1990s" makes me feel like an antique china pot. Anyways, when I was a child I often used to compare my little finger to that of my father. Still do. And it still seems to be tiny in comparison.

Perhaps that's why when I need some kind of reassurance, I often have to clutch someone's finger - that's probably all that remained from a skinny lively blonde worshiping her father. He let me go, he let me learn, he let me live. I stumbled. I stood up. He's too far away now, I left him behind, I cannot reach his finger.

I'll get over this childish fear, I promise.

Except, not now. Not quite yet.

Some day... When I'm older.

Picture : him. Dubai, January 2010.

"I was on my way out, when..."

Robert Pattinson

Frankly, one would remain in that shell for ages, savoring every kiss, being all numb and just working like a machine. Who cares about love anyways ? Feelings only distract you. Tears are for the weak.

But apparently it takes developing an enormous strength to be able to feel. To love. To live. To hope. To smile. To change. To believe. To trust. Because it involves the others. It takes an enormous strength to give, just to give - without asking for anything in return. It takes having a soul.

'Cause Without Me

You Got It All

So Hold On