Here I am again. Almost a month from the last post, but I got carried away from other things. No, me and Stevie didn’t leave each other: we are still together and hopefully we’ll be in the same country once … Continue reading
Yesterday I’ve been at the beach: it was a beautiful day and I wanted to draw under the sun, by the sea. While there, I collected these pieces of woods you can see in the photo: the summer season is still far and so the beach was not yet cleaned, and covered in them. As I was putting them in a box, I thought to take a photo and then I posted it on Facebook; it had a lot of likes and this made me happy: we can have the ultimate technology, smartphones, internet, tv, the obsession for our bodies, wardrobes full of useless clothes and shoes and a society based on a lot of wrong ideas…but we will always be amazed by some pieces of wood coming from the sea. There’s still the same old human kind under all the horrible things and thoughts we wear, and this makes me happy.
There are people that have a best friend that goes with them for the most of their lives, listens to their confidences, is the mate for travels and adventures, never misses to give them attentions and comfort. There are then people like me, who never had a person like that: when I was younger I suffered a lot for this lack, I couldn’t understand why for people around me it was impossible to love me so much to be at my side. I thought it was my fault. Growing up I realized that yes, it’s my fault; or better, it’s because of how I basicly am, and it’s a thing you can’t change. I’m a averagely social person (when I want), I can joke, be together with others, and in time I even learnt all those pantomimes useful to have a good quantity of friends (most of all, female friends, with which I had a lot of problems in the past). Still I know I make some people feel awkward and uncomfortable, I don’t know how or why. In time I started to make virtue of necessity and to not feel anymore this lack of constant company; on the contrary, it’s part of me, and from time I don’t consider myself anymore my own enemy. Better: I became my best friend. I like to think, to draw, to read, to colour my world. And I do it on the pages of notebooks I carry with me, in which moments and impressions are indelibly exposed on paper. Previous pages become memories, the white ones days, and pencils, pens and colours are the means of my thoughts. Then, if the outside world is a bit bad (like in this period), they become even my home, and “Omnia mea mecum porto”.
The images in this post are all taken from my actual notebook, welcome to my house ♡
Ci sono persone che hanno un migliore amico che le accompagna per gran parte della vita, ne ascolta le confidenze, è il compagno di viaggi ed avventure, non fa mai mancare loro attenzioni e conforto. Ci sono poi persone come me, che una persona così non l’hanno mai avuta: quando ero più piccola soffrivo molto di questa mancanza, non riuscivo a comprendere come mai per le persone intorno a me fosse impossibile provare così tanto affetto da volermi stare accanto. Pensavo fosse colpa mia. Crescendo, mi sono resa conto che sì, è proprio colpa mia; o meglio, è a causa di come sono fatta alla base, ed è una cosa che non si può cambiare. Sono una persona mediamente socievole (quando voglio), so scherzare, stare in compagnia, e nel tempo ho anche imparato tutte quelle pantomime utili a farmi avere una buona quantità di amici (soprattutto di sesso femminile, cosa difficilissima per me in passato). Ciò nonostante so che faccio sentire alcune persone a disagio, non so come o perché. Col tempo ho iniziato a far di necessità virtù ed a non sentire più questa carenza di compagnia costante; anzi, fa parte di me, ed io da tempo non considero più me stessa un nemico. Meglio: sono diventata il migliore amico di me stessa. Mi piace pensare, disegnare, leggere, colorare il mio mondo. E lo faccio sulle pagine dei quaderni che porto con me, nei quali i momenti e le impressioni sono impressi indelebilmente su carta. Le pagine precedenti diventano ricordi, quelle bianche giornate, e matite, penne e colori il mezzo dei miei pensieri. Se poi il mondo fuori fa un po’ schifo, come in questo periodo, ecco che diventano anche la mia casa, ed “Omnia mea mecum porto”.
Le immagini in questo post sono prese dal mio attuale quaderno, benvenuti a casa mia ♡
Mankind can’t resist to change nature. We want to feel home even in the depth of a forest, we are scared of being lost, alone, forgot, of disappearing. This thing tells a lot about our weakness. We create things for others to leave a sign of our passage and to make them come back. I find this sweet.
Voltaggio – Alessandria, Italia
22th September 2013
Most of people are afraid of people they love going away forever. My problem, instead, are people I hate remaining in my life without a chance to kick them out of it.
I come from Genoa, an italian city by the sea. Like every person grown by the sea, I often say I couldn’t live without it, and there’s a big motivation for that: looking at the sea is like looking at the infinite. You can just sit there and watch the horizon line fade into the water while your thoughts flow in the air around you. If something is annoying you, you can just look at that vast sweep of water and imagine to go away, far, so far you can’t even know. Well, at least I done a million times and that made me feel better. It’s the feeling of the infinite, of the unknown, the unseen that makes you feel better. The sea means no barriers, no walls…just freedom.
So the point is: here where I am now I can’t see the sea. It’s stupid, since Ireland is an island, but from here I can’t see it. I went by the sea in Belfast, but it was strange: grey and rough, full of rain, covered in black clouds…made me feel uncomfortable.
Yesterday, going around Lurgan, I suddenly found myself on a bridge, and under it there was the railway. Looking at it I saw it was going far, far away and I couldn’t see the end of it. That reminded me of the sea, even if it wasn’t really exactly the same feeling. Still a bit of infinite in the middle of Northern Ireland…I took a photo of it.
Lurgan railway – Northern Ireland