The Peace of a Déjà-Vu

I am sitting in the car and watching her talk to her sister. And my heart skips a beat - not because of the topic or because of the approaching train that I need to take. But because I get that feeling of familiarity, the feeling of knowing what's coming, the feeling of verbal recognition - the déjà-vu. Because I've been there before - in that car, with those people, and in that conversation - but not in reality (or at least not in the conscious reality). 

I arrived late after train-station hopping with a suitcase and a camera in hand. Checking at the arrival schedule, I wonder how long it takes to get out of the gate with a suitcase that she can't carry (and I wonder - what if there is no one to help with it). Of course, the idea is ridiculous (although the guys at customs might be more helpful than they should with other motivations). And she is there and she sees me first - and I am a tad confused (seems to be the norm of late) and we walk through the airport to the train station in a daze - perhaps it is the image of the bandade and the scar below, or the image of the flying byke (and worse - the flying E.). In the train, I rest my shoulder on hers and I feel her strength - way beyond my own - but that's again the titanium bone-support.

We walk to the hotel - and it is charming - with stairs shaped like a heart, escalator with a carpet on the wall, and a welcoming receptionist like in a movie - he explains how to get around the city, and so we do, leaving behind our baggage (and the metaphorical) and enjoying our conversation (in the midst of the football game - how dare we?!). And who would have known that she has hatched a cunning plan - and I would be her partner in crime (then again, when one brings a smile and tears and a smile again, one feels no remorse). 

Day 2 starts with rain - as it should always do - because rain keeps the streets envigorated - people rushing to get away from the rain, people opening colourful umbrellas hoping for protection, people cuddling closer together under the same umbrella. And then there are the people like us who couldn't care less for an umbrella. And we walk looking for old books, new fashion cuts, and discourses on life (we are such cliches!). But then comes our chance to hatch the plan - to surprise our hosts with an arrival - and surprise we do - as they have just relaxed on the massage table, we barge in to their amazement - and they don't know if the massage oil fumes have not messed up with their eyes. 

And that's when I see the tears, mixed with joy, and smiles - when salt becomes elixir that heals wounds and scars.

Berlin

Last weekend I paid a visit to one of my most favorite cities again - Berlin. With a much more cultural program this time ..., well, ok, with about 3 hours more of culture time this time around, I saw the city from above and the city from the past. The marvel of the Bundestag is there, certainly. I think I was more fascinated by the technology (you know, those audio guides which are smart enough to know where exactly along the long spiral you are), or by the architectural ingenuity (the mirrors adjust their position according to the position of the sun in order to reduce glare and at the same time to make sure that the German decision-makers get enough light not to strain their eyes). The Saturday was cold, light was diffused and every step along the long spiral felt like a new needle pressing in on my lungs. The cold doesn't last, however - it is only psychological - the vapours coming out of my mouth are the serpentiles that feed my visual system with signals that my brain primitively misappropriates. The texture of the streets that still remember the heaviness of tanks and the lightheartedness of freedom. The fresh smell of the ice crystals in the air raise the bar - the expectations and preparation for the stale smell of the old buildings - the smell that has permeated the walls and the pain for half a century of conversations about and against ... walls. And the hugs - because no matter where you are, they always mean the same - "thank you"!

VDAY 2011

There is more than what the eye can see.

You don't need to be blind to see ... With your hands.

A gun - the hand pulls the trigger. The fist strikes. Hard. The fingers strangle. The fingers with the nails sinking into  the skin. They strangle. A stick hurts the body, makes bruises, may crack a rib. That can heal. But the hand ruptures the soul. 

It's also what the mime uses to paint the wall to hide, to protect. Come inside. Wave your hand. No, not like that - not like the Pope. Like an Italian.  Don't you feel it? Don't you feel Italian! 

Enjoy your hand: let it melt the chocolate, let it collect the raindrops, and let them dry with the sun, let it make love.

And now the other hand [if you are lucky].

It's more brain than the rest of the body.

It's how the child picks flowers.  

It's a hello. And a goodbye.

It's how we hide laughter and how we wipe tears.

It's antenna for prayer.

It's the cup we make around the face in surprise.

It's how it's sweetest to eat. And most erotic to feed. Almost.

It's the tool for exploration: start at the hair, trace the eyebrows, close the eyelids, gently tap the tip of the nose, bewitch the lips. And then go down. And downer. And downer... To the hands... Fuck - there is a wedding ring. So what?!

I put down the wall. I put the white gloves on the night stand. 

I embrace you with my hands, the part that stays at least half-conscious. I hold the air in your lungs and yet it still escapes, so I kiss you to keep it in. I tease. I take the strawberries. And the ice. I go over the skin. A millimeter away. I feel the warmth, though not touching. My hand slips down - to your navel, the outer side of the G-spot. Your skin is a magnet attracting my hand, guiding it further south where its warm, and warmer, and warmer... My hands are everywhere. In and around. Where was the brain again?

We wake up. Luckily we still know the grammar. 

We protect.

We are building walls. Now-together. We share the white gloves.

We put the hands together. 

And you stand up and look in between, through your fingers if anyone is watching. You want to open your hands, open your arms and embrace this life, embrace this wonderful planet called Earth.

"I am a little spot in the universe, but at the same time I have a whole universe inside of me. I want to feel it, take it, touch it, and let it go. I want to feel - my hand in your hand. I want to feel the comfort that you give to me. FEEL IT. Take the hand. Take it - come on, don't be shy. Feel its years, feel its wisdom, feel its beauty, feel its sexual orientation; now feel its stress level, its leadership skills, its GLOBAL leadership skills, its GPA. Feel its vulnerability, its curiosity, its shyness, its comfort, are you feeling it? It helps if you close your eyes.

"Remain expectant."