Budapest-Almost Home

In the absence of everything that provided  me company I found an intimacy beyond the Danube river as my eyes gazed upon the ancient buildings of mustard and brown hues. It was in the gloomy skies that I found the reflection of my soul on that day, 24 hours after turning 30, and yet, found that I had within me a love so pure and deep for the life I had grown to hold. There embedded between the ancient structures was life and history tucked in. The lives of those in the past so firmly written for those of us to come and behold with our eyes. 

How much has humanity changed within the last couple of centuries? I have come to believe there is no unknown change one  person has gone through after another decades ago. It’s all relative and there is no absolute truth. Just as I can come across someone from a completely different continent and share views about ourselves only to realize it’s my thoughts he’s been thinking, it’s my words he’s been speaking, and it’s my desires he’s been going after, I am sure Hemingway, Locke and Donne would all come to the realization that time is just a divide between generations yet not between views, thoughts, and desires among humans. 

Upon turning 30 this weekend, I was asked the question of “what do you want for your 30th year of life?” And though every year I strive to learn something new to be a better human being, this year feels more than special. As humans we live our lives based on either two things: love or fear. Fear is the root of all things negative, even those we classify as hatred, comfort, anger, etc. 

I have been a slave of fear for over 20 years. More specifically rejecting the idea that someone can actually care for me because if they do care then I am prone to let my guard down. And so I’ve slaved on working hard to build that wall keeping many as outsiders and only allowing them to look into the corners of my heart through a looking glass. It’s been tiring, needless to say. And at 30, all I want for this new year—and new decade— is to stop being afraid. So what if I love and don’t get reciprocated? I should love merely to love and not to receive anything in return. So what if I give my all but only receive a decimal of what I thought I should get back from friends, a potential love. As far as I know they have proved they love me. There is a cycle that never ceases to engulf me—waterfalls. The water flows one way, yet it is never drained. Every time I see one I get lost in its cycle of giving. Somehow it is always fulfilled, fulfilled enough to keep on giving. So let it be—I tell myself as I walk along the Danube river on this gloomy but rather peaceful day— let your love be like a waterfall. Just give love and somehow you will be always be fulfilled. But before that can happen, the absence of fear must be present. 

всё ради сегодня

All for the sake of today, he wrote upon his wall. 

He wrote it upon his wall as he remembered that it had been his actions the very ones that had now brought him to where he was today. 

He had multiple times voiced that he didn’t want her by his side. He did not, and truly rejected, entering on a new road of life with someone by his side. 

And now, here he was. 

Exactly where he had said he wanted to be, alone, and utterly living a life with no one by his side. 

But “all for the sake of today” he repeated to himself out loud as he walked a few steps backwards away from the wall and looked upon the written words brightly shining on the freshly painted wall. 

Paint dripping off the letters “A” of All and “day” of today. 

His heart wrung with anguish at the thought that yet again another had walked away. 

She had walked away, and though he knew he had told her clearly he didn't want her, he also knew it had been his intention for her to hold on to him just a little longer. If only they could fight, just one more time. 

If only they would try, just one more time, he would be able to see that they were truly committed. Yet, none of them stayed. 

All walked away. 

And it was for the best in the end, he knew. 

For alone he had grown to live and alone 

he would grow to die. 

Like Father, like Son

There is something so beautiful in the live portrait that is next to me on this last night in one of my most favorite cities in the world. The counted hours and mere seconds, though unaware have kept on counting the uncountable, they have for now and at least for me counted down to the last few hours I will be in Prague. As such, I decided to have a ritual of my own. A goodbye to my beloved. What started with a late evening lunch at my favorite café Saldkvosky then moved on to my next favorite cafe Kavarna Sláger with a double cappuccino and a slice of raspberries cheesecake. Writing and reading, and drinking and eating. The hours drew on painting the bright blue sky with its dark night hues and sprinkled lights here and there. In the midst of reading If on a winter’s night a traveller I looked to my left and caught the eye of an eight year old boy—my assumptions of course. I smiled and he smiled faintly, with the awareness that I am a stranger. His father joined him a few seconds later as well as a huge slice of chocolate and whipped cream covered cake—or cheesecake— accompanied by a glass bottle of Coca-Cola. The father only sipping on a beer, perhaps. And as the boy enjoys that cake with great delight that only a child can, the father speaks to him in Czech and watches him with tender eyes. It is not merely the fact that on a Tuesday evening here is a father and son sitting across each other having an actual conversation. It is not merely the fact that this boy is enjoying the delights of sugar as any child desires, but here is the portrait of a relationship so intimate unobstructed by the countless—and yes these are countable— things that have come between so many fathers and sons, mothers and daughters.  

It is by far more precious than the hundreds of years old statues around the city and far more worthwhile than gazing at the beautiful, and colorful buildings that are spread around the city. 

Unfortunately, I did not have the privilege of growing up or even meeting my own father. And though I have wondered one too many times what it would be like to have had him, I can say that for now, this image, this most vivid and live image of father and son sitting next to me has imprinted the perfect emblem of what I would like to have the day I can have a family of my own.  A perfect way, in my opinion, to say, until next time my beloved Prague.

What is the object of your desire?

It’s been stated that more than a million people travel each year to visit “one of the most iconic archaeological sites in the world”. A place where many have found themselves gazing not only at the marvelous ability of humanity in creating a fantastical city but also feeling the immense peace that nature can offer. Yet, while millions are looking down on this wonder of the world, feeling the beauty of it take over their senses, another has his back turned to it, capturing a moment on the simplest of things: blades of grass. Which brings me to my question: what is the object of your desire? And is it truly wrong to desire that which thousands have not even given it a second glance?