I drank my tea and started to write. To you. To each of you out there who's maybe,
reading this now.
tired from everything.
Lost, even with no reason or because of million reasons. I don’t know.
But I think right here in the end of November it’s time to slow down.
Stop asking questions for a bit and finally start eating chocolate in embarrassing quantities.
This is the time to let it go.
The time when the air moves, and you actually see this,
when in a cats purr you hear a whole symphony, and your favorite warm sweater feels like home.
It’s time to watch gray sky with a bright pleasure. Because without a gray sky you would never know how the blue one really tastes like for your soul.
And someone would say this is depressive, but we, you and I, know this is just a sweet vacuum.
A slow down mood. And you know.
know and love this penetrating sound of the crisp November days. This music is for us.
No one else can express their thoughts so clearly, as November does it.
Sometimes thousands of questions lead you to nowhere.
Sometimes one answer out of the universe changes it all.
This is what we crave for, here in the end of November.
I wish you one answer.
I wish you tons of lightness.
To live with eternally hungry eyes, to have a room for the wind and always to take the sky too much to the heart, as it's something very personal. I will never exchange these skills for anything else. Happy to taste each day, happy to feel the storm, and to enjoy the music of it.
Music is everywhere. Everywhere I go, and in everything I see. And this is mine.
And this is me.
It is somewhere on the border.
There. Here. Where one chapter has been finished, and the other one has not yet started. And you're dying to know what is about to happen. When you're in anticipation of the dream travel, or coming back home after a long trip. It is when the rain starts softly, but you know it's gonna be shower, when the snow falls for the first time, when the Sun shows up after days and days filled with gray. It is when you recognize the shape of spring in the middle of February. And the air is so-so yours.