Dreams II

“As the water begins to slide up my skin, and I am fighting, giving into you. Like those moments before when you fled out of the door (...) I can breathe, I can see, death he does not bother me, I’ve been thinking it’s a peaceful way to go. I am moving out from the shore, I can’t hear you anymore. There is something calling me from down below.” - Waters, Eliza Shaddad 

She runs in front of me with her long, flowing, wavy brown her. I can’t see her face but I am sure I know who she is. Either way I trust her implicitly and follow her, my feet hitting the ground as fast as they can. Running up the hill, heart pounding, I try and avoid falling over.

Dreams

The fading light makes it difficult to see. As my eyes adjust to the darkness I can make out trees in the distance; can hear birds singing, the wind rushing through the grass. It smells of fresh air, countryside, flowers and water. A few tender, careful steps forward and I can hear the stream rushing by. Trying to take it all in, figuring out where I am. And what I am doing here.

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How do you write a letter when there is no way to accurately describe your thoughts and feelings? When every word, every sentence does not feel right, feels inappropriate or just not good enough?

Human connections in the times of the digital age: Anybody out there?

“Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity.” – Simone Weil

Sunday is one of my favourite days of the week; it is totally acceptable to spend a good proportion of your day in bed, new PostSecret secrets are up and I can guilt-free indulge in geeky reading of all my favourite websites. The New York Times Sunday Review Opinion page is one of those. To my delight this week one of my favourite authors had contributed his thoughts about human connections in the digital age.