When you’re hot…

…you’re hot, and when you’re not, you’re not…

What could be in the brains of those guys who secretly admire you? What are they thinking about when you say goodbye and turn around on your heels? Do they sigh? Do they feel some kind of emptiness in their stomach? Do they already think about tomorrow when they are going to see you again? I kind of know what a woman feels like when she knows that’s it for the day with her secret crush. But what is a guy thinking of?

When they talk to you, their secret infatuation, they would get short of breath, they would blush, they would speak hastily without saying anything, and they would perform whatever is necessary to keep your eyes on them for another minute. Puppy love is oh so sweet. Especially when spring brings piles of snow and daylight saving time.

When life is not inspiring anymore

It’s been a while. And I haven’t managed to squeeze my now-well-organized-life to get at least one drop of inspiration. Everything is perfectly aligned and polished like the window of an old craft store. I cannot look outside and you cannot really see inside. Your eye would get caught by intricate handcrafted boats and terrifying bear claws, long strips of fur and colorful beads.

Why does my life look like the window of an Eskimo craft shop? Maybe because it’s still freezing outside and I have no other merchandise to display. Or maybe because I cannot decide yet whether to move south, start a new life and drink pina coladas or live here with my old past.

Ice is Nice

A trip I dreamed about since I was a kid. The airway to Iqaluit (Nunavut, Ca) is paved with good white intentions...

My Butterflies

When I was little, my parents, especially my grandparents, used to tell me that I behaved and spoke as if I had butterflies in my head. I was too naughty and too restless for their pace.

Thirty years latter, my butterflies have gone all the way down to my stomach. And it’s so very hard to agitate them. Maybe they’ve grown older or something because I very very rarely feel them. But it’s a sweet quick moment when they start opening their wings in a tiny little inside tornado. And it happens only when my inside eyes show me long-lost people and the funny things we did together. Because those people are all gone and have taken their belongings with them. So here I am, with my butterflies that will soon become moths and eat my dreams from inside out.

Sundown

Life is just a projection... against a white wall, in the autumn sunset light...

What’s in a smile?

Today, my happy smile has got a small sad thought hanging down my lips. There are still reminiscences of those days when I was convinced that he was there to stay. When I was feeling protected but insecure about what was to happen. When I was childishly spreading my arms to get all the hugs and all his smiles, to keep all of them for me only. And, like the kids often waking up in the middle of the night reaching out for their loyal teddy bear, I suddenly found myself hugging the emptiness. Bitter tears, shattered glass, dim light, barricaded doors, nights, nights, nights…

Until now, when this man makes me laugh with his witty grace, with his tons of stories. I sometimes think that he makes up some just to see me laughing. But I am not that child anymore, I don’t even look for hugs and I don’t expect anything. Smiling is just a façade, while my mind is busy living in the past.

Day dreaming

For a couple of seconds, with my eyes wide open, I had the following dream: wearing a black dress, I was dancing (partner unknown) with an unbelievable grace. But I stopped because I remembered I have a kid at home who is waiting for me. OMG, what if this is true? What if my brain is tired of commanding me to wear boots and kaki clothes? What if it is sick of reflecting rock music in its circumvolutions and of managing my clumsy moves? What if my brain wants a child? Would a brain and a vegetable get along?