There is a replica of a painting in our living room. The painting is originally by Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema and it is called The Unconscious Rivals. It depicts two women, one sitting and one standing, on a balcony under a large, painted barrel roof with one open end showing a view of the sea and a cape, covered with forest and a two white structures.
We have another painting, made by some unknown artist. It depicts a view of a treeless island rising from the sea.
Consider distance, dear reader. Consider the place you are at this moment and, after that, consider all the places you have been and finally consider all the places you haven't been.
I shall give you a task now, dear reader. Look outside the nearest window. I invite you to share the view on the comments.
I tell what I see: the window is narrow and tall, behind it I see snow falling. Tiny snowflakes slowly falling to the already white ground, mixing with the green of the lawn. I see an old, horse driven plough, used as an ornament.
I see bare trees, an edge of a forest. A tall, straight, leafless aspen and much shorter cluster of rowans. Behind them I see an even taller spruce. Next to the forest is tall rock, a natural formation common here, covered with green, snow covered moss. On the slopes grows short pines.
It is getting darker.
I have a weird desire, a mood of longing, to be in new places, to see them. And yet I fail at this. One's fantasies are so much fuller of experience than reality. Reality is a disappointment.
Is your experience fuller, dear reader? Do you see more and feel more?
Consider your past, dear reader. Give yourself a moment to watch it, to explore whatever images arises, real or unreal. I invite you to share moments of excitement, of sense of wonder and of fulfillment and of nostalgic magic.
I was in Egypt in 2000, I was about 11 or 12. Cairo, the pyramids and the Sphinx, the red sea, Karnak, the Valley of the Kings and so on. An image of the sun arising over the cliffs in the desert, as we sat in a bus to Cairo. A small cruise on the Nile.
To be honest, it wasn't that great. And it doesn't feel like I ever was in these places, it was somebody else. And yet it was great, the memories, pruned of all the nasty things, condensed to brilliant visions and pieces of ancient mosaic, are fantastic, so much more lasting.
After all, I remember being in these places, yet I have forgotten the innumerable days I went to school. They contain no memories, merely repetition, moods, rather than visions.
I do remember our school or class or something walked to this reservoir near this house. And there we saw young grass snakes.
And I remember the time I was on a scouts camp and we had been walking the whole day. We stayed on the bottom of a small quarry. And I remember we walked on a enormously long and straight road, surrounded by spruces and two shallow ditches where wild raspberry bushes grew. I ate some of the raspberries. And then, finally we reached the end of the road and it made a sharp turn. And I peeked behind the corner and saw an identical road. I stood at the corner and saw two identical stretches of long straight road in the middle of the forest
It wasn't as much funny as unbelievable at that moment, but now it is funny.
I was at CERN, in Switzerland. Funny how you can almost forget such a thing. It was a week long school trip. We stayed at a hostel in Geneva. We made a trip to the Aiguille du Midi. At the village at the bottom, Chamonix I believe it was, we took a cable car to the top, great view.
On the same trip we drove through Mont Blanc Tunnel to Italy on this huge tourist bus. The plan was to drive through some nice scenic route over the alps back to Switzerland. Unfortunately the snow or something had blocked to route. And luckily the Swiss driver was an apparent magician, as he managed to turn the bus on the narrow serpentine...
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