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Sunday 11 December 2016

Echoes

Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night. In their gray visions they obtain glimpses of eternity, and thrill, in waking, to find that they have been upon the verge of the great secret.
 Edgar Allan Poe 



For years I had this feeling in my brain, in my heart and in my lungs that I could not describe. Felt it in my fist, in my feet, in the hollows of my eyelids, shaking through my skull, through my spine and down to my ribs.  It started mostly with a word found on the page of the book I was reading, or from the image I stumbled upon – it evoked something familiar but forgotten, some odd longing to be somewhere I was supposed to be, but I never knew where this place was. How is it possible to feel nostalgic for a world I never knew?  But I felt.  And I still do.  As years went by I learned it better and it became my constant companion, my inspiration, my thread to a different world, different time and people long gone. I hardly believe in reincarnation, but why then I imagine this? I can see myself sitting by the desk full of papers, books and writings, when I’m tired of studying or reading I suddenly notice that it is far beyond midnight, I lit a candle and lift up the stairs trembling because of my shadow chasing me. I wake up early on a foggy morning, go outside barefoot, the smell of the ground and night dew lingers in the air, I breathe in and out and then I know I belong here. I belong to the pale morning moon, to the every drop of the fog, and the shadow hiding between the pines of the old forest doesn’t scare me anymore. I feel cold – it is the wind that blows from the salty sea on the east, but I can stand like this forever, feeling the wet grass under my feet, breathing in the odour of awakening garden filled with lilies, roses and azaleas…

I close my eyes and so vividly imagine this – the place I am longing to find but it is so vague, and every time I try to catch it I stumble and lose it, like I am sleepwalking. But was it my home once? Are these echoes past memories? And may be my whole life is just a journey towards that home I once lost…


Disclaimer:
The source of the image is pinterest.com - I wish I knew where it is from (cause it seems to me it's from a movie) for it describes my feelings a lot. Also all the words in cursive are quotations.

Song to listen to - Blinding by Florence and the Machine