London, my Love

17523034_285335808562571_832689199404757514_nI think we need to spread love as much as we can. And today I’m very much in love with LONDON. A couple of weeks ago, I introduced the city to my cousin & her husband, & was very disappointed they felt indifferent about my lover. For days I thought, that I might be deluded, that all this love affair isn’t real & it’s all in my head. But today, today London spoke to me in the sweetest language ever known. We took a slow walk along the south side of the river, we listened to St Paul’s Cathedral bells watching boats ploughing through the water. Then he took me for a long walk through resting Borough Market, across London Bridge, I asked him to wait whiles I took a photo of majestic Tower Bridge. He said I act like a tourist.

We walked through oh so busy Liverpool Street and said hello the new office, I will soon start a new position and continued to the Old Spitalfields Market, down the Brick Lane, where a dude that looked like Jimi Hendrix played Hey Joe.

I took a short video of a man dressed half pirate, half old lady in a blond wig, he rode something that looked like skate, then stopped to chat to a salesman and said: I dress, so people see me, otherwise they act like I’m invisible. He has a point, – said London. You are home for all freaks, – I teased him. Including you, – he noted.

We floated down Columbian Road like Ophelia in the sea of people surrounded by flowers and were brought back to life by a cup of flat white. The queue was long but we enjoyed standing there listening to a girl playing Kate Bush Running Up That Hill.

And when we walked down the Broadway Market — a cup of coffee in one hand and flowers in the other — watching people sitting outside having brunch, thinking this day can not get any better. A Spanish born artist caught us by the hand and dragged into his pop up project space. What is this? – I asked. He said: We want to capture the face of London. I don’t look my best, – I said, – but I got flowers. Let’s do this!

And he sat us into this 1970s photo booth and we took a selfie. Here it is, I’m not sure if you can see him, but London is right behind me.

Postcard Karma

What goes around comes around in a form of postcard. Dedicated for those who send and receive love.

What we talk about when we talk about love

We sat in her living room talking about her trip to South America, Global Warming, recycling, female rights, volunteer work, refugee camp in Calais, where her husband and she is taking donated clothes and blankets for those who happened to be less fortunate. We talked about war and rape as a weapon, cultural differences and maiden names. Continue reading What we talk about when we talk about love

Melodrama

I don’t follow the news, there is a high chance Italy was blown off the surface of the planet Earth, ’cause it seems that all refugees are camping in my house.

The other morning, I went downstairs to find them all in my living room: one was resting on a sofa hiding under a coat, another was sleeping in a right hand side corner of the room, other two spooned closer to the window.

I stepped over a couple of snoring bodies and got closer to my beloved ones Leo and Giorgio, who were leaning over the bar. Continue reading Melodrama

Reality

You lift a cup of black coffee and put it down again without even pressing it to your lips, then sit back. You rest for a minute or so and then look around searching for someone who could land you a cigarette. Sun is shining straight to your face, you put on your sunglasses: you haven‘t seen it for so long you can‘t even bear to look at it.

I sit down in front of you. We stay quiet for a couple of minutes: I watch you involved in another reality. Continue reading Reality

War

You’re struggling to grasp the essence of life. It’s like an unfinished task, that bothers you, makes your body stiff, clouds your mind, takes away colourful dreams and instead rolls a never ending horror film.

You’re sick of yourself, everybody else is sick of you too, especially your mother, who would push you back inside with a pleasure if only she could.  Continue reading War