2018 is already peaking. Only 3 weeks ago I had no idea
we would get the chance to meet so soon again. And here
I am. Back in my beloved Lisbon.
Warmth in January is an unknown concept for me. I need
We are staying at the Hotel Imperial. I walk into our room
and pull the curtains. A 180 degree view opens in front of
of the Praca dos Restauradores. I feel like I am in a movie.
3 years ago when I first visited Lisbon I never thought it
would have so much impact on me – Pessoa, fado, Alfama,
the portuguese sun. There’s a copy of Pessoa’s poems on the
nightstand. It’s in portuguese but I like going through the
It gets even better from here. Sitting on the little french
balcony while the sun is slowly going down. I can still see
the beautiful pink buildings across, specifically the EDEN
theater. I have probably passed this place 20 times but it
didn’t make an impression on me for some reason. My
name is Raya, means paradise, Eden.
It’s the small things, the coincidences that make our lives
a bit more romantic and magical.
There’s a lot I can say about the past year. However nothing
new for the people who know me. One adventure after
another. The only thing is that this past year I experienced
everything so different than before. It’s like I started over. I
remember vaguely my other life before this one. A few
times I found pieces of it, from the past life, but they seemed
so forgotten that I just dropped them and kept going. So many
first times as well as last ones. First time knowing me. I learned
to genuinely love, myself and others. I fell in love with Paris
again, this time it was very pure, very familiar, very easy. And
now I am falling more and more in love with Amsterdam. The
most peaceful moment of my day at the moment is when I
bike back from work through Utrechtsestraat, under a row of
Christmas lights. And I don’t like Christmas. I love the lights
only on that street and no matter where I am I will try to bike
on that street in the evening.
One of the best days of the year I was sitting alone on a quiet
beach of west side of Ibiza, reading The Book of Disquiet. Or that
other day when I was walking through the Tulleries and listening
to Rachmaninov, setting an intense and overwhelming situation
for myself. And then later, sitting in the Thalys and questioning
my choices, Simone de Beauvoir dropped it on me. The answer to
my all summer long dilemma was provided only 2 weeks before
the end of my trip…
And of course a good amount of lovers and a better amount of
friends were a constant in this year’s affairs. I can’t say I feel
blessed because come on, you get to choose your friends so
obviously if you choose poorly it’s on you. However I feel
incredibly lucky I met some beautiful people and I would like to
keep them for sometime. I feel like all these love lines should be
more poetic than what I have written but Jerry Seinfeld’s voice
in my head keeps saying that poetry is just a careful selection of
words, which don’t make you laugh at the end. And I want to
make you laugh at least a little.
As far as 2018 goes, I am happier than ever with the person I am
becoming. There are no particular resolutions on my mind. I just
hope there’s going to be good music to play while jumping into
new realities. I hope everyone’s year was also full of adventures
and if not, well then it’s about time you do something about it.
I find myself constantly engaging with love.
I think about love.
I talk bout love.
I read about love.
Falling in and out of it. So different every time.
And quite literally falling in it.
Sometimes I kind of predict the trap and run away before I fall.
But I also don’t mind. Nobody seems to mind.
I love staring in people’s eyes, but I don’t seem to be able to look into yours.
I feel so shy at once. It’s like if I give you access to my eyes You might see something,
you are not necessarily allowed to see.
So I keep kissing you with my eyes closed.
Bukowski ones said that love is a dog from hell. To be honest I love dogs and I don’t
really believe in heaven or hell. But then again I am quite curious about how
hell would look like. Shouldn’t be that bad, right?
Tuesday night. Alfama. The old city of Lisbon. We are listening
to live fado in an extremely crowded restaurant, but that is how
you are supposed to experience it. We walk outside for a cigarette
with a wine glass in hand. Easy. Sky full of stars. I can hear the sound
of the waves somewhere in the distance.
Fernando Pessoa once walked these streets. This place stayed his world
no matter how far he travelled. The gallery across the corner sells paintings
made from red wine and coffee. A lot of the paintings are of Pessoa. I can’t
understand much of what the Mongolian man, the owner, is saying but he is
making us step outside to show us something. Apparently the man who used
to wash Pessoa’s shoes used to live next door.
Earlier today I heard the legend of Luis de Comoes, who was on a boat, which
crashed in the sea so he swam to the shore with one hand above water
holding his poems. Supposedly he saved them. He lived opposite of the gallery
we were standing in.
I live for moments like this.
So many different types indeed.
Deep. Passionate. Comfortable. Crazy. Unconditional.
I love love.
I am in love.
With everyone and no-one.
But my heart breaks everyday.
Violence. Pain. Fear.
But mostly the fear of being alone.
Not my fear, but the fear I see in people, close to me.
It really breaks my heart and brings me to tears.
She keeps writing love letters and blabing on about how she is the best version of herself when with him.
Who is she without him then?
How is this beautiful? A love, in which two people are complete only when together.
Who are they without one another?
Do you really feel like you are half a human?
Why are you so scared to be with yourself?
Being alone is not being with yourself.
I mean the real one, the one that felt love and loss.
Why are you scared to dig in?
Feelings, I know. Annoying.
Now dig deeper.
Let me know when you find love.