Because film is always better…

27 01 2010

It has been raining for more than a week, and there are leaves and mud everywhere.  And as I wake up, wrapped in the warmth of the fireplace, I notice the sun finally shinning.  Last night, maybe because of the tea, or maybe the lack of alcohol, I had a dream I can’t remember, but I suddenly feel a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in a while.  I look outside, and the world seems huge and full of possibility, I take a breath, feed the dog, make some coffee. Everything is constantly changing, and the calm that surrounds me is deep and quite, and the snow has covered the mountains, and standing here on this beach, I feel strange and surreal, almost like part of a movie whose script I didn’t approve, but one I’m starting to like anyways.

Holga SLR

I’ve been writing more letters, and I am still taking pictures, and if only I could pay more attention when I am making breakfast I would have used less peanut butter and more apples, less milk and more inspiration. I’ve been making decisions, and rethinking my options, and if I could only find someone to share more stories I would have less fighting, more sunny Sundays, less drama, more beers, and less expectations.


28 11 2009

For foggy mornings and chilly winters, for transatlantic flights, and cabins in the mountains. For girlfriends and boyfriends, and french wine, and birthday kisses, and a fireplace to light up. For the moments, and the pictures, and the phone calls, and the hugs that bring comfort, and the uncertainty of Sundays. For morning coffee and the rainy season, for music, for rainbows, for spontaneous  trips to San Francisco. For family time, and dog park visits, and toothpaste, and collections. For vintage shopping, and farmer’s markets, for L A weekends, and learning Hebrew. For friends that love you, and those who left you, for good advice, and bad decisions. For helping others, and sharing stories, for polaroids, for the beach I live on. For changing seasons, for the right reasons, for love letters, for meditation. For foreign movies, and foreign kisses, for beachside sunsets, for whom to share them. For the future, for the lessons, for the recipes, for goodnight kisses. For new jeans, and old books, and for airports, and the circus.

For what will come, for what I need, for what I wish for, for what I’m given.

Because I was 20 minutes late…

16 11 2009

I look around, barely seeing what is there, rushing through the morning rituals of imported and over sweetened coffee, and showers that are always too cold, and being late one more time.

My plan to wake up early enough to have a decent breakfast for a change, has failed, and if I could only wake up when I am supposed to, well, maybe I would feel better.

Sophie is crying, and refusing to go outside, as if she shared with me the feeling of wanting to stay under the warm blankets for a few more hours. Laundry stares at me from the corner, and I still need to get those jeans hemmed.

Coffee. Where is the coffee, and did I take my vitamins? I need to get more film and more apples. At least the gym bag is already packed.

I am trying to swim out of the fog of sleeping late and too much wine and calls to the other end of the world. Maybe this living in two time zones I’ve been doing for the past 5 years is catching up. Or maybe it was that extra drink I had Saturday. Either way, I am still late, and tired, and the alarm is still screaming somewhere.

And my car keys are nowhere to be found.

The crisp autumn wind comes in through the door, and while it fills the house with possibility, it takes me back to his stories. I stop, and listen, and feel him close even though he is a million miles away.  My eyes get slowly filled with tears, and right then I decide to leave the memories of him in a drawer, and I take a sweater instead.