.the short night of the butterflies

Daydreaming late at night, looking outside the window and examining the petite world around me. Light from a reading lamp is casting shadows after crushing into obstacles at the speed of light, didn’t see that coming, huh? Obstacles like shelves, door, guitar.. Obstacles like me..  May I say, I’d make a good shadow someday.. Oh, how I would glide around the cityscape, tormenting the people around me. Step in their footprints and scare their shadow off of them. I long to fall for a beautiful shadow girl.. do the things that big shadows do, y’know. Watch her undress late at evening when the sun is just about to fall in dreams behind the horizon, as she grows taller and taller.. fall for her over and over again, deeper each time. Cry when the sun is at zenith and she disappears into a small circle underneath a woman enjoying her Piña Colada..  and then for the first time to raise my eyes higher than the ground beneath her feet.. only to realize, she is the girl of my dreams. We are not only shadows, we are real.

Uhm.. yeah.

Anyway.. just some time ago I noticed a small night butterfly flapping against the window, trying to get closer to the light..  I thought about it and opened the window to let it in. Why?

Now I know that the light and warmth will kill it, but their life lasts for approximately 24 hours anyway. I figured that every moth I had seen only did one thing – ventured closer and closer to the light. It is their dream, their lifelong goal, to experience the magic of light that we, humans,  have already grown so used to. We fail to see the beauty in the small things that surround us every day, at some point we just stop caring. Sadly.

So I let it in and I don’t feel guilty about it, If I knew that my life was about to end, I’d go for my deepest dreams without hesitation. Put all my faith in living for once and for all.

After all, faith isn’t faith until’ it’s all you’re holding onto.

The truth is.. I’m confused.

I want to get lost in a painting, to seek underneath the layers of drying  colors, to bathe in them.  An oil painting representing a sunset.. Some of the yellow paint would stick to me as I make my way over the red sky, dragging a line behind me  just like an airplane shooting for the momentum. A tail of starry  rocket fuel, a gasp of eclectic love –  toxicity versus beauty and I am unable to choose. The colors dry, I fall on my knees and break to tears, I am stuck.. the saltness and liquid burn holes in the paint, and in one of those black holes in the universe, I got lost in, just wanting to be found. Or do I? Do I or? Or I do? Corridor? Okay, but to where? Or maybe I want to swim with the bubbles in champagne, Yeah, I think so, for I hope this would take me closer to your heart. Just don’t spit me out.

 

I just want something.. something I can never have.

In search of something..

I have had a front row seat to observe the transformation of a well off, educated and intelligent young man into a homeless tramp who’s first thought after waking up is “Where will I spend the night ahead?”

And for that, I couldn’t be more thankful.

I remember clearly how in the beginning I was so focused on getting further and further as fast as I could, I had only one goal in my mind – away from here. I told my parents that I wouldn’t turn back to Estonia before I had reached the border of Italy, and I’m a man of my word. It took me 5 days to reach Italy and another month before I headed back. I did my best to catch rides – even had special clean clothes to look more acceptable, I still remember the irritation when I discovered the first stain on my favorite shirt.. Washing and shaving in every gas station, even adding the unnecessary sprinkle of cologne before heading out to talk to the drivers. As days turned into weeks the cologne had faded away and the stains on my shirt had made some much-needed companions on this long and lonesome road. There’s something to learn from even the smallest of things..