Fate and traffic lights .·.

It's a sort of freezing morning, no matter that the summer hasn't ended yet. Walking towards the bus stop, I go through the familiar neighborhood, staring at the noisy parrots -who trade the small square's tall trees for cables-, and testing different turns along the sidewalks, just to try and break the routine established between me and the possibilities offered to me by the urban design.

Right where the friendly and peaceful neighborhood ends, the traffic lights announce the inevitable crossing of The Street. Seemingly placed there to give continuity to the path that brings together the highest mountains with the coast, the eternal glaciers with warm beaches, The Street's six tracks -no islands in between- threat anyone naive enough to think that tranquility could have lasted more than some blocks.

However, there's no point for anyone who heads downtown to stay on my side of the street, and so one is to be aidded by pedestrian's traffic lights to survive the daring challenge of going right through the road uniting the mountains and the sea. The previous blocks should’ave helped on you building yourself the necessary self esteem to beat the ‘who am I to oppose to the marriage of the biggest ocean and the longest mountain range on Earth?’

I wont walk as long as the traffic lights meet my eyes in that reddish mood of theirs. It doesn’t matter to me that not even a feather is flying along the tracks blown by the morning breeze: I am just too proud to let that cynical attitude of ‘desperately running towards where you are not welcomed’ to kick in. So yes, I would wait. There’s nothing wrong in looking that dumb. Nevertheless, it can get dumb: when I know the lights are about to change –since we have been knowing each other for some years now, and I am able to crack those subtle details- and they wont give me enough time to get to the middle of the street, I will still stick to my sidewalk while the traffic lights greet me with their greens and the motorists turn into spectators awaiting for me to make the audacious move. So no matter how sure I feel about it, it just looks dumb since there’s no one moving.

That’s why I do my best for reaching the crossing at any time except that precise one. In spite of it being the tiniest moment in the traffic lights honorable cycle, I somehow manage it to arrive to the corner at the exact time at which I wont get to the other shore of The Street without turning my peaceful walk into a rushed one. It doesn’t matter I leave home some minutes earlier, some minutes later, it will turn out happening that way.

One day it was different: it was one of those days you could say it was going to be a perfect one, right after you left home in the morning, one of those you could tell Fate is watching out for you. I couldn’t help to put my mood and predisposition to test with the traffic lights. And so, I forgot about the peaceful walking through the last blocks of my neighborhood, rushing towards the crossroad: I was pretty convinced that that day it would be different. And it was.

In the rush, I forgot not only about the parrots but noticing the traffic lights, and it was already too late when my eyes stumbled across with that unique and familiar traffic light moment in which I feel dumb. Fate had surely done me a favor that day, but how was it going to know I would be dumb enough to forget my dear peace walking through the friendly neighborhood and spoil its gift with my hurried steps: after all, it’s Fate, but it’s also just Fate, what can we do about it, and what can it do about us.

خِرمان

Immortality or not .·.

Back when I was a kid, it made me sad to think I would never get enough time in a lifetime to listen to all the beautiful music the world had to offer, and that my ears would inevitably miss who knows how many worthwhile sounds.

In my fifteens, I was decided to dedicate my whole life to living some ten to fifty more years than the normal -if not becoming physically immortal of course-, so I would enjoy life as much as possible, since I didn't believe there was an existence after this one. Watching other people wasting their lives through religions and other things that clouded the goal of living more, just made me feel sad and tremendously worried about them. In any way, enjoying life as much as possible never meant for me that devaluated premise of carpe diem, but rather filling my path with a subtle, honest and peaceful density.

Today, I would give up as many decades of life as necessary if that sacrifice would make my life a denser one. I no longer see life valuable on itself, but on how it is appreciated, and so, more years of it don't mean anything on themselves. Living two more years of good life -because isnt life always good no matter what- is not better than living just one more year of good life. What's the real difference, when you wont be measuring how much you profited on it once you are dead? People might remember you for a whole extra year of things you shared with them, but eventually they will as well forget. What is so awesome in just a bit more of time with our senses opened?

Then I should be asking, what am I writing for? This is certainly not a suicidal note: I love life how it presents to me, I am in love with such a perfect nature that surrounds us all and how it performs its play in the setting my senses serve for it. It takes my breath away to see how some eyes meet sunsets overwhelmed by bright and yellow rays, while for others the Sun sleeps covered in red shades, and neverminding the color, both address to beauty on its pure form.

U N D E R · C O N S T R U C T I O N

Isfahan's minarets

Maryam was in Isfahan that day, visiting her brother who had went there some years ago to study.

She lived in Tehran, however sharing her footsteps with the dry -though sacred- ground from Isfahan was something that not even her glances of Tokyo or Singapore had been close to equal.

Pretty likely because there is something between the ancient bridges, which would take one a lot further away than just the other shore of the Zayandeh, and the seven echoes below the Emam mosque's dome, granted even to the most improvised tourist, which simply can't fit into the sensibilities of even the best prepared from those who would be willing to bet their success swearing that we go around continuously evolving and reaching perfection here in the west.

Life's pulses

Refreshed anew life's pulses beat and waken / To greet the mild ethereal dawn of morning; / Earth, through this night thou too hast stood unshaken / And breath'st before me in thy new adorning, / Beginst to wrap me round with gladness thrilling, / A vigorous resolve in me forewarning, / Unceasing strife for life supreme instilling.

As a kid I remember letting my cat sleep on my chest, as I laid down on a random -or perhaps not that random- couch staring at infinity. What I did then was to try synchronizing my breathing rythm with hers, so that I would bother her as least as possible. It really seemed to work as she not only stayed there for a while but, from then on, it made her keep looking for me every time she got sleepy.

Fasts and carnivals .·.

Today, many carnivals around the globe are shut down. A real shame for the ones who were out celebrating. They turn off their colours and movement in supposed respect for Lent's beginning, after partying as if the world was coming to an end, seizing the time previous to a fasting no one will do, and previous to a time for meditation that no one will take.