Is sadness blue? Can you hear it at Shinjuku station in the heart of Tokyo? Or does it become a leaf in the ginkgo avenue? Does it always hurt? It’s impossible to capture. Because it likes to hide in a song, or warm up when we drink cold coffee from a can. It’s a part of our lives. And according to writer Nanae Aoyoma, it can also be cheering.
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Continue reading(…) my memory
if I don’t keep you in it
we will disappear forever
from song “disappearing”
On Valentine’s Day, the sun woke up earlier than a week ago. As usual, I peeked through the blinds right after waking up and saw the blue sky was brightening. And thanks this miracle I had more energy.
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Tears well up in my eyes. I feel like I’m hiding somewhere, like a nine-year-old Raj. Meanwhile, I check the map to see where Mapou is, and then Beau-Bassin. I discover that trams run through this city today.
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The waves are rough on the coral beach today. They crash joyfully against the rocks after yesterday’s full moon. Children run, jump, and burst with laughter. The sky is a fantastic blue.
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‘I can be with life just as it is.’
I wake up in the morning and peek through the blinds to see what color the sky is today. It’s usually black at 4:30am But on Saturday, it’s the color of denim. Then it dissolves into a bluish gray. And before 10:00, the white blue shimmer.
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The Criollo is a horse from the Pampas, the vast, grassy, and fertile plains in the heart of Argentina. A symbol of freedom, independence, and endurance. For such were the Gauchos – nomadic horsemen from the Pampas. Today, they are ghosts who have left behind a lasting cultural myth in Argentina. A mysterious country with the emotionality and elegance of tango.
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An angel on the Place Jean Moulin, between the trees, reveals the graphite after dark. At the bakery “Le Boulanger de l’Hôtel de Ville” I look in the mirror. The heart is honey-colored corduroy, touching the moon with a finger. Sweet chestnuts. How do we know each other?
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At this concert, I cried, laughed, sang songs, transported myself to the land of childhood, saw my mother’s smile, and my friend’s tears mingled with mine. Time sparkled on my cheek. I absorbed the theater, enjoyed French, and lived in Bordeaux that night.
Merci Beaucoup!
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