30 December 2013

«West of the Moon, East of the Sun»


«At this point, unable to control the overwhelming sense of urgency that made her gravitate towards that specific location, she decided to embrace this sudden rush of renewed energy, rebelling against her usual composed manners and predictability.» 
                                                 By Raquel R. in Short Story number 10


«Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate
And though I oft have passed them by
A day will come at last when I
Shall take the hidden paths that run
West of the Moon, East of the Sun.»

J.R.R. Tolkien 



via Colossal

27 December 2013

Behold


«Like she expected, just right in front of her, the horizon gradually enlarged and the landscape flattened, as she left behind the tall concrete buildings and other effective indicators of the illusory human domain over nature and entered the sacred realm of one of the most magical territories.» 
                                                  By Raquel R. in Short Story number 10

«A man sees in the world what he carries in his heart.»
                                                                                                                     Goethe 

                                                               Photo Raquel R.

20 December 2013

Short Story number 10


Short Story number 10: Inspired by the song «Let me fall in love» by Markéta Irglová from the album Anar.




As the car approached the coastline, reminiscences of her childhood days started taking over her thoughts. An irrational bubbly expectation tickled her stomach, while her eyes anxiously examined the horizon in search for the absolute signs that indicated that her destination was near. Like she expected, just right in front of her, the horizon gradually enlarged and the landscape flattened, as she left behind the tall concrete buildings and other effective indicators of the illusory human domain over nature and entered the sacred realm of one of the most magical territories.
Finally, after a long winding road and occasional reasonably violent bumps caused by the badly paved road, ultimately magnified by the poor mechanical state of the old car she was driving, like an unexpected random act of kindness, the evergreen tall pine trees, aligned by the right side of the road, offered her a glimpse of what she had eagerly been looking for. Among the pine tree’s straight brown trunks, she could perceive, far on the horizon, the astounding infiltrations of one of the most profound blue tones she had ever seen, anticipating what was waiting for her, just around the corner.  
At this point, unable to control the overwhelming sense of urgency that made her gravitate towards that specific location, she decided to embrace this sudden rush of renewed energy, rebelling against her usual composed manners and predictability. So, she opened the car windows all the way down, welcoming the gust of cold wind and the chaos it brought with it, misaligning every string of her hair. Although only a few miles separated her from her destination, the anxiety she was feeling inside did not tone down. In fact, it seemed that it grew stronger in the inverse proportion of the distance still keeping her apart from her goal.
Suddenly, there it was. First, just a glimpse of it. Then, as a prelude before the final revelation of the magnificent element, the daylight slightly changed its intensity by becoming brighter, and after a set of sand dunes, the open ocean was finally right in front of her.
In wintertime, choosing a strategic spot to park the car, which allowed a perfect view of the ocean, was never a problem. The isolation of that place was total, yet it was strangely comforting. As she turned off the car’s engine, the silence immediately filled every vacant space in her heart and mind. There, she remained for a while, just watching the tiny drops of the salty moist falling on the car’s windshield and within a few minutes, her now depurated sense of hearing, started to grow accustomed to the surrounding silence until the ocean’s roar became perfectly recognizable. She had an instant of hesitation before opening the car’s door, so that she could linger, for a few more seconds, in the final frontier, where wishes are just about to be fulfilled and therefore prolong the bliss of positive expectations.
As she stepped out of the car, she immediately breathed in the distinct humid and cool ocean’s breeze, the perfect carrier of one of the most irreplaceable and unique odors, commonly referred to as the ocean’s smell. Although she had seen many oceans and seas throughout the world, only in this specific location, was that smell so perfect and evocative of the primal feelings that we all hold inside.
She looked around and headed towards the wood path leading to the beach. As she stepped on it she could feel and hear the scratching sound of the sand under her feet. At a distance, a flock of seagulls errantly circled in the air and its occasional squawking calls indicated that she was not the only one out there. Then, as the wood path abruptly ended, she chose to continue her walk in the sand. But first, like someone preparing to execute some kind of religious ritual, she removed her shoes. The first contact of her bare feet with the cold sand, after months of being carefully sterilized and more or less protected inside proper footwear, was absolutely liberating. So, it was only after pacing back and forth in the soft and dry sand for a couple of times, did she resume her walk and approached the hard wet sand.
In front of her, the waves rolled in and out leaving behind incomparable embroidery patterns made of pure white foam. Surrounded by all this white transparent reality, all she wanted was to be able to take a piece of it with her, wherever she went. Yet, every time she tried to touch it or hold it in her hands, it disappeared between her fingers, leaving her with nothing. Oddly, it was the ephemeral aspect of that reality that made that moment even more significant and the only way to eternalize it was to fully embrace it and live it. She knew that the present moment is the sole guardian and holder of life’s essence and those blind to that fact or reluctant to accept it, would never fully experience it.
As always, when she was there, she lost track of time. Every step she took revealed her something new. Looking further ahead, she was able to identify small stacks of seaweed that had been randomly deposited by the high tide. At her feet, countless pebbles of all sizes, shapes and textures paved the sand. Not resisting the temptation to find the perfect one, she inevitably ended up with her pockets full of these irresistible tokens. Despite her hands and feet were frozen cold, she felt more alive than ever, for she welcomed and honored all these ocean’s offerings with her ability to awe, when at their presence, and to cherish them like small treasures.
Time passed by quickly. The tide was slowly rising again and the sun was setting. The sounds and smells were now more intense than ever. Behind her, the ocean mist descended upon that place transforming the coastal vegetation into a distant blur.  Soon the darkness would take over the beach.
 It was time to leave. She closed her eyes and let herself be rocked by the sounds of the gentle lapping ocean waves. Her breathing and heartbeat became one with that sound and magically everything seemed to make sense again.
She opened her eyes to the immensity in front of her and felt small before it, yet as whole as she had ever been.
By Raquel R.   

12 December 2013

Here and now


«That night, they chose to stop the motion that had been pushing them further away from each other and commit themselves to slowly restore the bond they still shared but did not seem to remember anymore.» 
                                                   By Raquel R. in Short Story number 9 
 
«It’s enough for me to be sure that you and I exist at this moment.» 
                                                                            Gabriel Garcia Márquez 


 

5 December 2013

Sometimes to lose is to find


«At that precise moment, although without any kind of formal and rational recognition from the parts involved, a silent pact was made.» 
                                                    By Raquel R. in Short Story number 9

«Mostly it is loss which teaches us about the worth of things.»
                                                                                          Arthur Schopenhauer 



           
                             Chicken or the Egg from KIMWU on Vimeo. via Daily of the Day

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