{Tales from my notebook} Vol.4

People watching in Italy.

The piazza is awash with people.  A subtle mix of tourists and locals.  People perch on the steps of the monument and the church.  They lean casually on the fountain's railings, on walls and on lamp posts.  Watching.  Talking.  Some taking photos.

Young Italian girls stride through the centre of the piazza, with an air of confidence, dressed in skinny jeans and sneakers.  Their hair and faces made up.  Sellers stroll through pushing carts, laden with their wares.  Two young guys, who look like they're from Milan, pass by.  Shoulder length glossy hair and low cut tops.

The light dims, the temperature drops and still the piazza grows busier.  This is the hub of the city.

{Tales from my Notebook} Vol.3

June 2014

Does this infatuation come from the heart or the mind?
It's hard to say.
The absence of your presence inflicting a dull gentle pain.
You speak to me in my dreams, words which blur when I awake.
The touch of your hands ingrained in my memory.
Soft skin, covered in colour and shapes.
Am I in your thoughts, as you are in mine?
The fear that our connection has been left behind.

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{Tales from my Notebook} Vol.2

11th September 2014

In search of closure.  I need to find peace with this situation.  Resolve matters, either way.  My heart is fractured.  Shattered.  A bed of emotion built on lies.  A complete illusion.  A fabrication.

Which leads me to question - what constitutes as love?  Do we need to really know someone to love them and if so, how, if we may never truly know anyone, do we do this?  Is love an illusionary state?  Must it be reciprocated to be considered real?  Is real love ever lost?  Or does it simply evolve as we ourselves do?

So many unanswered questions.

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