Какво се случи с теб, поете?

Защо са тъжни очите ти, поете? Привел си взор - преди отправен към звездите. Пристъпваш бавно, уморено, сякаш си понесъл тъгата на целия свят. Нима страхът облада дори теб? Нима нямаш сили да погледнеш към ширналата се, безкрайна синева, изпъстрена с безброй много отражения. С прекрасните светове, които някога създавахме заедно. Докоснали глави в росната трева, с аромат на лалета и люляци? Погледни... онзи свят все още е там - нашият свят.
Аз ли? Не. Не се страхувам. Защо престанах да пиша? Не зная. Не съм сигурна. Може би е просто етап, а може би не се чувствам достатъчно достойна за магията на словото. За дарбата да претворяваш и сътворяваш светове с думи, да вменяваш собствените си разбирания. Не зная, поете, може би просто опитах да преживея нещата, за които пишех, картините, които рисувах, хората, които срещах само наужким.
Успях ли? Ами... мисля, че до известна степен - да. Само че персонажите ми вече имаха своя идентичност, лице и глас. Вече не бяха безплътните отражения на хаоса в душата ми.
Защо отново хванах перото ли? Нямам представа, може би реалността ми дойде в повече. Може би отново съм притисната и задушена от небе, което не мога да докосна, може би просто имам нужда да полетя отново, да попея със славеите, да целуна пеперудите, да се свия в чашката на лале. Мисля, че един свят без магията на приказката, някак успява да открадне усмивките ми, нежните ми ръце треперят под напора на острия въздух, по който не мога да се отпусна и да заспя, люлеена единствено от ветровете.
А ти, поете? Защо си се заровил в бели листа с понадраскани няколко думи? Със зачеркнати строфи, задраскани стихове? Магията ти се е изчерпала? Не. Не го вярвам. Омръзнало ти е да летиш? Писнало ти е да виждаш кораби и замъци в облаците? Цъфналата вишна да виждаш като предрешена девойка в сватбена премяна?
Може би трябва да напуснеш своя свят за малко. Може би трябва да докоснеш реалността... за да осъзнаеш, че тя е безполезна без способността ни да я претворяваме и изменяме. Може би ти е време да се бориш за нещо по-различно от подходящ ритъм и красива рима.
Не... моля те. Съвсем не се правя на нещо повече от теб. Вие, поетите, никога не разбирате чуждата любов. Ето - аз не съм поет... и за това мога да обичам като художник, като музикант, мога да обичам като просяка и като блудницата, мога да обичам като човек... и не съвсем...
Ех, поете, в тъжните ти кафяви очи съзирам отражението на собствената си меланхолия и упрек, че животът е... такъв.
Знам, поете, колко е трудно... но аз ти подавам своята ръка... за да минем заедно през всичко. Остави на мен грубата реалност, аз ще я поема върху себе си, ще се свличам под тежестта й и отново ще се събирам цяла и непокътната за теб.
Защото, поете, ти си моят живот. Ти си онова, което се крие в огледалото...

Express yourself

From day one we are taught that we should express our feelings and thoughts freely. In this way you can say what you have in mind to your friends, for example. They can give you a piece of advice what you should do in a certain situation or, as it is in my case, boost your self-confidence and make you believe that you are worth it.

I've noticed that for me the best way to express myself is to write. And this does include every kind of writing - the blog publications are my favourite, of course, but I also like to write poetry and prose. Unfortunately, recently I have had the-so-called writer's block - this is the condition in which a writer loses the ability to produce a new work. I have not written a decent blog post for ages and I think that is what has made me really stressed. It is not like I have showed it anyhow to the people around me because in a way I have not understood it myself. Until now. I realised that I really miss my writing - it kept me going in really hard times and I believe that it is part of who I am. It cannot be torn apart from me because in this way I will lose a significant part of myself. I do not want that. So, I decided to write again and keep myself together.

It is incredible what things can inspire me to write. In this case it was a really fun night out with two of my dearest friends and my boyfriend. A night that started just as a way to say goodbye to another friend and finished as one of the greatest nights of my life. Why? Because it revealed to me that I have incredibly smart and wise friends. It showed me that they possess characteristics that I have never even dreamt of being possible for them to possess. On the other side, however, I realised something very important for myself as well - I have the opportunity to do what I want. Nobody is forcing me to do something that I don't like. This is like the most important gift that my parents can give me - the freedom of choice what I want to be and what path I should take. What kind of life I will lead. I am sure that I am not ready yet to determine what kind of person I am or want to be but I am sure that writing definetely has to be part of me and my life.

I know that the future is waiting for me and I have plenty of time to enjoy my life and do what I love. One of the greatest authors of all, Earnest Hemingway, has said: “There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” This captures perfectly my thoughts about writing - it gives you the opportunity to let out your most intimate thoughts and emotions and be the person you want to be. The only thing that can stop you from being a writer is self-doubt. You can write about anything that happens in your life - that is what the blogs are all about. You just have to have the courage to write about it and the creativity and imagination to improvise. At the end the worst enemy for the writer is the writer himself/herself.

“Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia.” 

E.L. Doctorow

The Lost Wife by Alyson Richman: Review

It would not be an exxageration to say that this was the book I was waiting for all my life. I have read numerous other books on the same topic, which is the powerful force of real true love which can change lives and destinies. Because, let's face the fact: I am a hopeless romantic who will burst into tears every time I read a good love story. This novel was a waaay different.

The reasons? They are endless. First and foremost, the novel tackles one of my favourite history periods - World War Two. I just love to research this topic finding as much new information as I can. I want to enrich my knowledge in the Holocaust which tears my heart every time with the heartbreaking personal stories of the millions Jews killed in the concentration camps. And when a book represents the true events happened to a girl, Lenka, living in one of those camps I just cannot put away the novel. It captures me with such a force that I simply cannot go to sleep. This book was the cause of my latest book hangover.

Secondly, the storyline is presented from the perspectives of both the protagonists - Lenka and Joseph in alternating chapters. This way the author prevented her readers to draw conclusions simply by just one perspective. We glimpse into the lives both of Lenka, whose chapters are dedicated to her difficult past in the Terezin ghetto and later on in Auschwitz, and of Joseph, whose narrative shows us how his unconditional love for Lenka haunts his marriage with his second wife in America. Both narratives were powerful, but I found myself enjoying Lenka’s chapters more as they provided a more continuous timeline of events.

Last but not least, Richman's language ... I rarely find someone's way of saying things so magnetic. There were times that I caught myself thinking that this woman is able to come up with some extraordinary metaphors and similes:

“I had to teach myself that love was very much like a painting. The negative space between people was just as important as the positive space we occupy. The air between our resting bodies, and the breath in our conversations, were all like the white of the canvas, and the rest our relationship- the laughter and the memories- were the brushstroke applied over time.”

Alyson Richman has created a heart-wrenching story. A story that will stay with me for really a long time. It is the most incredibly written love story that I have ever read. It is so amazing that I was really sorry that it came to an end. Therefore, I am sure that I will re-read it!