Intermezzo
Journal log, Nov 27th 2009
6 PM, burning cigarette in my left hand, a cup of latte macchiato still full to the brim, retro hits from the speakers-I must be in my favorite café. I am-for a fourth time this week; and it is Friday. It’s too early to go home and I’m too tired to go anywhere else. My usual detour between work and home. I feel safe here. No one bothers me. Waiters greet me with a smile (tips help I guess). The fortune for today says “joy”. Not bad, it would come in very handy.
It’s so peaceful here; I just lean and stare at people. Occasionally someone stares back but that doesn’t bother me now. Some people complain the place is too expensive. It is…but then again not really because I get the maximum value for the money I give. I pay not only for the liquid in my cup but for the comfort as well and that sometimes is priceless.
It feels as if the time I spend here doesn’t exist. The hidden 25th hour. Stolen time; just for me to sit here with no worries on my mind because I left them at the door as I walked in. A friend wondered “You go there alone!?”. Well, yes. I recall a quote from Julian Barnes’ “Nothing to be frightened of”: “Loneliness doesn’t scare me as long as I know when it’s going to end”. I don’t but somehow here that doesn’t scare me.
One can get used to many things even if it seems impossible at first. Maybe there comes a point in one’s life when one forgets other alternatives exist. Priorities shift with age. Fatigue accumulates. Comfort starts to seem more appealing than excitement. A good book rather than idle chatter. Silence rather than drunken laughter. Rest rather than sleepless night. I don’t really need to compare myself to anyone else. I don’t have to pretend to be someone I am not just to fit because it won’t make me happier. What is happiness after all? Clean conscience. No regrets. Peace of mind.
P.S. I tried to find the correct quote but apparently no one else seems to like it. Search, however, was not all in vain because I found another great one from the same writer:
"Books say: She did this because. Life says: She did this. Books are where things are explained to you; life is where things aren't. I'm not surprised some people prefer books. Books make sense of life. The only problem is that the lives they make sense of are other people's lives, never your own."
posted by balance at
5:31 PM
4 Comments:
Vera, I hope that one day I will be able to have an intermezzo like this.
You've crammed a million thoughts into this post!
BTW, next time I'm in Bulgaria: will you take me to this coffee shop?
Oh, Milla, but of course I’d love to take you there! It’s actually a confectionary and every weekend I indulge my senses with some of their delicious cakes :) I don’t really know why I like it there. Maybe it’s the friendly attitude I get from the waiters-sometimes I just take a seat and a couple of minutes later a cup of cappuccino is served on my table without me placing an order at all-they just know what it will be. That feels very nice.
You are so good to me, you know? Thank you for that comment, Milla; now I don’t feel like talking to myself :))
You got great points there, that's why I always love checking out your blog.
My blog:
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Thanks; 2007 was a very good year for me.
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