Happiness Means Being Close to the One You Love

The other day, over the lunch, Fantastic Man asked me maybe I would be better back home? I stopped for a moment in search for words.

  • Are you trying to get rid of me? – I double checked.
  • No, I‘m not, but it looks like it‘s not working for you…

Maybe it wasn’t perfect lately, maybe I got caught in my little routine and snoozed a bit too long in oh so comfortable comfort zone, but how dares he assume, that London and my-self stopped working?

Fantastic Man, who recently got caught in a twenty four hour daily endeavour is a man of action, his time is ticking and he is fully absorbed in his professional development trying to juggle functioning relationship with me.

Previously, I worried a lot and thought, that such affair is doomed to end. Weeks spent apart for attention seeker like me were no less but torture: each time he left, felt like break up. But then again, weeks later followed the make up. And now, it’s natural, like a long distance relationship. He does his thing and I learnt to do mine.

This weekend he is working and I planned to enjoy London in spring.

Everyone, who ever met London, must have had that overwhelming experience of being insignificant and helpless, but ironically enough – vigorous and capable of achieving the impossible. Such duality of the metropolis is one of the things, that keeps me attached to it. For lack of a better words: I like it here.

It’s not easy and less so fair, but most of the time it’s blooming magnolias, sounds of laughter, occasional drunken howl in a background of police sirens, and love in all the bizarre shapes and forms one has ever imagined.

And art… that you read about in books and dreamt of experiencing, like Tracey Emin’s: My Bed (1998), which is back to Tate Britain after 15 years and that I saw today. And it was perfect.

  • I met Tracey once, – looking at My Bed said S.
  • You did?! – I exclaimed inappropriate.
  • Yes, I said to her: you seem familiar, but I can’t remember, where we met. She said: maybe we saw each other in one of the gallery openings or so. I’m not sure, but you look very familiar. She gave me a big smile and said: it was nice to chat with you. And left…
My Bed by Tracey Emin

My Bed by Tracey Emin

… and feeling of adventure, if you’re open enough to let go and engage.

%d bloggers like this: