Just One Day

I emerge in a thousand days’ journey.                                                                    
I take on a thousand names.
I grasp the meaning of a thousand events.
 
This is my constellation.
 
I lose the dawn in pursuit of the night.
I forget my birthday for the day of resurrection.
                                              
Inspired by an enigma, I throw off prejudice. It disappears taking away weaknesses of my heart.
Striving skyward, you race to nowhere. Having come to my senses, I begin to hastily make my way to hell.


Rimini, take a black-eyed victress as an ally.
She is stern enough to take revenge.


And may I be left with the desired illusiveness of the sea.
I hear its voice and recognize it.
I am drowning  in the white foam of waves. They wash away my fears and despair.
I am entranced by both the infinite squawk of the seagulls and the freshness of the sea.
The sun has whitened the stone above the blue waves, and I am climbing up the white steps to you. All of a sudden, you appear out of nowhere, and before I know it, my body fills up with bliss.
The seagulls swoop into the crashing of the waves and lounge  in the glare of carelessness.
It’s only white stretch to the horizon. In the white mist is a strip of land. Is it? But let it be. Just today. At the end of this day that has crept into my constellation.
A thousand events fade and change their meaning.
I am silent and still. I disappear into a million names. Do not look for me.
 
I vanish along with the myth.

 


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The season of the little golden spider web

... And then the season of the little golden spider web will arrive. Just don’t confuse it with an Indian summer. It’s a completely different thing. It’s timeless. Not everyone happens to find out, grasp and experience - but only once – this astonishment, which has crept between the past and the future into that moment when the present becomes alien, unnecessary, and gone to the edge.  And everyone who happens to be lucky has his own tribute to this little golden spider web, but one should be rather careful not to tear it before a tiny knot appears followed by a delicate, shiny and elusive trace, which is a bittersweet memory of suddenly predicted good luck. 
It sometimes happens that you are too slow to understand what it is: a golden thread has enlaced your fingers and keeps flowing… By the time you have a closer look, it has already slipped out of your hands and, having disappeared to nowhere, is lost. No trace and no memories. How could we be so sluggish! But what’s the use in lamenting. There’s no turning back. Everything happens just once. So does everything marvelous and wonderful. If you are slow to catch and lick the sweet membrane or have a bite of a juicy fruit – your heart will regret. The present will return and stand back-to-back again, and the golden timelessness will be forgotten as if it had never existed. Looking back to the past, the eyes won’t squint, daydreaming of reminiscences, and the lips won’t be folded in a sad and sneering smile. The hand won’t get warm, holding a cup of golden tea, and the swinging glare will be a mere reflection of a light bulb.
How can it be? How can we allow ourselves to lose such alms! Look towards the sun, smile lingeringly and wait – there will come the little golden vibrating spider web of innermost feelings and desires, absent-mindedly and whispering, it will tie into a knot as a keepsake for a lifetime. The ones embracing happiness.
 


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Message to the world

She is looking at a dancer. He might be an American. She might be a French woman. She may not know English and the dancer may not know French.
She is looking at the dancer and knows that there is happiness in his heart and he is sharing this happiness with everyone. Suddenly the dancer’s moves change and she definitely knows that these gestures are of desperation… How does she know this? Did he say in English or French any single word about his feelings?

How do you know by looking at a portrait that the depicted person had lived a hard life and experienced much? Who told you this? In which language?
No one pronounced a word. But the artist said much. With a brush and paint. The artist filled the eyes of the portrayed man with sadness and wisdom. And 200 years later, you do not need the artist to be alive to tell a story about that man on the painting. You can learn the story just by looking at his wrinkled face, clothes, attributes around...  And it will be your response to the artist who lived 200 years ago and sent you the message which you received.
Isn’t it amazing – such communication? Through centuries and continents?

Sometimes students ask, “Why do we need art? Why do we need to learn and to do art?”
We need art to learn how to communicate and this is our way of communication. We can communicate even if we do not speak the same language, if we were born in different countries with diverse cultural backgrounds.

An Arab man sings his song and a British boy can visualize the desert, the sun and the happy person who found rest and friends under the palm tree and communicates his joy.

We speak different languages, but if we draw or photograph a girl holding a wounded bird  we all, without pronouncing a word, will share the same message – “take care of your environment” and we’ll understand each other and our communication will be successful.
 


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New Zealand. Farewell

I am leaving this land. I am leaving New Zealand.
“New life, new love, new land”, I said before coming here.

I had everything I asked for.

I had new life on a new land.

I fell in love with a mystery, with something what I touch but cannot see, what I feel but cannot get, what I got but cannot take away, what I take with me but leave it forever on this land.

I leave this country with hope and joy of the coming of bright future and great plans. I leave this land with sorrow and a bleeding heart.

I learned a new word. I stepped into a new world. Its tune is soft and wide like an ocean. Pa-ci-fi-ca.

I say ‘good bye’ to the world, which was just about to open its doors and let me in.

PA-CI-FI-CA…



It was a hard year. It was a great year. A year of big achievements and a big loss. A year of looking for a place in the world and peace in the heart. It was a year of joy and satisfaction. It was a year of disbelief and disorientation. A year of moving and stopping, getting and losing. A year of tears of pain and love.

I need a break. I need a breath. A moment of silence and solitude.

I am going home. It will be a sabbatical year. A year of peace, rest, creativity and quiet mornings with tea and books.

For the whole year I have been thinking and taking care of those who truly deserved it. I put all my time, effort, enthusiasm, and passion into my work. I got great results. I got great satisfaction. I got inspiration for a new move in my life.

It is my time now.

Time to revise the past and plan the future. Time to sort out old mistakes and give way to new ones. Time to put the world map upside down and look at it with curiosity.

It is not a station. It is just a halt. For a gulp of fresh, cool water from a well.


And for my next flight I have a gift, a little paper crane to take me to my dream. Its two wings carry a message.

On the right wing it reads,
“Thank God for sending you to AIC this year. It affects people’s whole lives and dreams.”



The best gift I have ever had in my life.


With love,
Anna
 


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Notes on travelling

Someone commented on difficulties of moving: «two moves are equal to one house on fire».

It is my fifth move. I acknowledge some benefits gained from such experience. Real time outlays shrink to 3-4 days, including investigation of companies, sorting out goods at home, disposal of stuff and actual packing. Thus, when I need to get rid of some ‘precious’ things it becomes easier and easier to handle.

Giving out favorite items is not an issue anymore. Things come and go. Skills and experience stay with you forever.

 

When all boxes are packed, a flat becomes empty and roomy, and light and cheerful feeling comes into the heart, which anticipates new adventure, new apartments, new unpacking and settling down. A few days of full freedom are ahead. Freedom of buying anything is in my total possession now. I can enjoy a good dinner and a last walk around the city. No anger, no frustration, just peace and joy. The blue sky is bluer than ever, the sun shines brighter and friendlier... Uncertainty of the coming future does not bother at all.

 

Of course, the financial side of such moving requires some attention, especially if it is necessary to transport much stuff. Cargo gets heavier while a purse becomes significantly lighter. However, you get used to it and then just include it as an inevitable payment for the pleasure of living in an exotic place.

 

Experienced backpackers would laugh over such moving. They know how to pack  20 kg in a sack to live a half a year in Asia on budget. But it is just another style of life. They do not work, they travel. And a non-stop traveling has other values and aims.

 

To settle down in a new city, to learn roads, to buy a car or to accustom to public transport, to adapt to a new rhythm of life, to find shops, to buy (again and again) all the same kitchen stuff (plates, pans, a toaster) and create minimum of comfort in a flat, which will be your home for next two years, and to start your everyday life: to go to work, to cook food, to read books, to watch movies, to go out with new friends... And, beside that, to explore a new city, new culture, to accept or reject, to have a new set of problems which differ from the previous country… To find that some of your hard-earned knowledge is not applicable here... But you have knowledge of where and how to search for the solution.

 

All this differs from carefree life of backpackers. But who can judge which is better or more interesting -everyday life, work and communication with locals or moving from place to place and absorbing new and exciting world? You either see more or penetrate deeper.

It is up to you, traveller!

 

So far I am going home. Whether for a long time or not I do not know. It depends. Will see. Even with all my love to exotic life it is pleasure to have some rest at a haunt.

 


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A Poem to my Friend

I Wish…

 

                                 to A.B.

 

I wish you were a millionaire

And didn’t have to work;

I wish you had all things and beer

Delivered and uncorked.

 

I wish you traveled time to time

(Of course, of course with me!)

I wish you had no need to ask: “To buy?”

Buy a lot and be!

 

I wish you were the happiest guy,

Lived in the happiest world;

I wish God never said: “Good bye”

To you, ‘cause nicest God.

 

I wish you saw sunrise, sunset,

One million first sunrise…

I wish you never were upset!

I wish you million smiles!

 


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Farewell will fill with sorrow our souls

                                                     to D.

 

Farewell will fill with sorrow our souls…

The burden heavier for those who will stay,

But life does bring more meetings than farewells.

Tomorrow comes, but never yesterday.

 


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Just One Day  download PDF
The season of the little golden spider web  download PDF
Message to the world  download PDF
New Zealand. Farewell  download PDF
Notes on travelling  download PDF
A Poem to my Friend  download PDF
Farewell will fill with sorrow our souls  download PDF