Yesterday got trough all my posts and understood: blog is an amazing thing, a place where I store my memories.
When I look at the photos of me next to the mountains, I think I still can feel that smell of melting snow-covered shapes of Alps, that I still have a sensation of spring sun on my skin and my eyes have never gazed so far away expecting miracle to happen.
And only what is missing is me… me there, right in that moment.
When I look at the huge and powerful to graceful architecture of city and squares where I was walking, I wish I could stay longer on that lightly cool granite, desperate for heady zabaione gelato.
Wish I saved more money on bus and go trough all the city by foot, to take a breath in shade of church and to whisper to myself : “for my strength is made perfect weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9).
I wish I could wake up 5 in the morning with loudly beating heart and avidly desire to live.
Wish to go for a run while everyone is still sleeping and see how sun is warming up the asphalt and shore of the river. To fall on the dew-grass in the park and be frightened by playful dog.
Wish to loose my appetite for all I have tasted before and to gulp Pan di Stelle cookies and pasta with Grana Padano cheese. Just for a moment to revel in to the rainbow of flavors of Porta Palazzo market: strawberries, mint, lemons, herbs, which names I don’t know… Place where the smell, the sound and the visualization hedonism are dancing.
Wish to spend evening at home, just to blend with laud rain and thunderbolts on black sky. To sleep with open windows all night and in the morning to wake up with birds singing so soft, sweet and hearing voices on the street of barely understandable language.
Wish to fall happily drunk from bench. And to feel that soul found rest.
Wish to have only 20 kilo of personal belongings for life.
Years greatest lesson – depending only on yourself is shortest way to Carpe diem.
I wish I did it different.