Friday, February 11, 2011

Pink and Black and Blue

I want my sheets to smell like spring, so I hang them in the sun, hoping the sun will bleach them of the winter stench of closed windows and steamy soups. I have had the apartment to myself all week and it is sometimes quite lovely to have a space to yourself. I have been reading, listening, and watching a lot. And saying some temporary goodbyes as well. I read an article that laid a clear path through the tumultuous woods that is data analysis. I made a delicious salad from the treasures found at the open market. I bought fresh milk, milk where the quality of the opaque white is inconsistent and one can see the strands of denser milk separating from the more watery aspects of milk. I have been studying Croatian. I have touched based with people who live their lives like giant grasshoppers, springing from one location to another, never resting, only letting the movement of their legs sing praise to the adventure of landing and springing into the air once again. 

I have forgotten about writing in my blog because the days seem to stroll into an unexciting bliss of normalcy. The sun, however, has been shining for days and has brought back thoughts of being very young again and spending the summer laying in the park and rumbling about barefoot in the fresh grass. 

Today is windy and I have an interview and high hopes of work to be done.

This past week I went a museum. In the museum my friend and I were the only observers. We found in the center of a room with very high ceilings a string weighted at the end with what appeared to be a brass top. The tip of the brass top grazed, most likely, a centimeter deep into a pile of sand and dirt. We touched the string and it began to sway, the weight working the way gravity forces it to, drew a symmetrical pattern into the sand. Perfect. With arcs, and criss crosses. When you stand there, silently, the sounds of the grains of the sand shifting hesitantly aside as the brass tip brushes the surface of the sand, sneak, on their tippy toes, into your ears. It sounds like the shifting of the earth or the tiniest whisper "shhhh...."