conversations

At what point in time do our lives become so boring that the most we can manage out of a conversation is the inanity of leafing through a magazine remarking gems such as if so-and-so's kitchen could have used a different kind of patterned tile?

Random snippets, not even random thoughts, just bander innocuous enough to fill in the dead space hanging between two people sitting in a cafe. “Alfa Romeo has this new convertible. I think they've gotten away from basics”. And then bored silence to be broken by yet another similarly existentially vacuous comment.

I'm not looking for profundity in every statement. No life changing aphorisms of an examined life. Perhaps some passive participation in what we know as life. Some indication of awareness that you left the blinders at home today and walked outside beholding the world with some awe. Wonderment at its absurdity, and surreal elements where people feel empowered to spend $1 million on decorating an office, collect billions in bonuses and still let their companies report billions more in losses.

...but when does tomorrow come?

..."tomorrow will be a better day", "save for a rainy day", "tomorrow is another day", "learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow", etc.

You get the drift. Phrases we utter without hesitation, mostly alluding to a time in the future (near or otherwise) different in many aspects from our current situation. But what I want to know is when does tomorrow come? And if it doesn't come then what?

“Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow. The important thing is not to stop questioning.” - Albert Einstein

barefoot in the sand / ξυπολητοι στην αμμο

Walking, recalling sun-filled afternoons
looking into your eyes, listening to the sea
Softly crushing on the beach, the pebbles I
Tried to skip over the surf, the words left behind
Written in the sand by hand, a fleeting “with love from…”
Only to be washed away,
But still taken and carried as far as the waves
Can bring such words.

You Must Believe in Spring...

τσουχτερο το κρυο και σημερα,
νιφαδες ασπρες παιχνιδιαρικες πεφτουν
και παιζουνε μαζι μας βιαστικα σαν περπατουμε,
σκυφτο το κεφαλι, τα χερια βαθια στις τσεπες.
σε λιγο οι δρομοι σκεπασμενοι
θα'ναι κι' αυτοι, απροσπεραστοι.
σου πιανω το χερι σφιχτα, και τρεχουμε
να προλαβουμε το τραινο μην και τα
γκριζα παλι γινουν φανερα και δεν μπορουμε
να τα κρυψουμε γρηγορα.
κι' εσυ στην αγκαλια σου με κρατας,
ψιθυριζοντας λεξεις στοργικες,
καθως κοιταζοντας απ' το παραθυρο
φευγαλεες εικονες μιας ανοιξης παλιας

Bitterly cold again today,
snow flakes white and playful are falling,
toying with us as we hurry through the city,
heads down, hands deep in our pockets.
Soon the roads will be covered in snow, impassable.
Holding your hand tightly we run to catch the train
before everything turns gray and we cannot hide anymore.
And you, you hold me in your arms,
whispering tender words as I look out the window
fleeting images of a spring gone by.

Lounging the Canadian way...

...in New York's Bryant Park, sipping hot whiskey was definitely the way to go while in the city this past week for the New Year's celebrations.


Also visiting MOMA for the Van Gogh and the Colours of the Night exhibit wasn't bad either!