View from the Balcony ...

It's 10 celsius here this morning.  I coughed all night and my throat still hurts but the view from the balcony makes up for a lot ...

It was an unexpected detour and I'll need to sell a kidney at some point, although our beautiful apartment was a huge bargain at winter rates.  I need to link to it at some point but not this morning.  There's a city to explore.

Enough of Beautiful Things ... the world is a serious place.

Once upon a time, a tour bus stopped like this ... in Rome.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Kahlil Gibran

I do believe I have finished with the 3 beautiful things posts.  It pulled me out of the dark place and allowed me to celebrate some of the beautiful things but it's not really my style ...

Well, there was that and the fact that today was another dark day.  But really, dark and grey and wintery.  I had to go out in it, twice, so far.

But I fly tomorrow.  I love leaving.  Always, since I was a small child.

These days it goes like this.  The night before, if not sooner, I wonder whatinthehellIamdoing and have some anxiety about all that could go wrong. 

The night before, I sleep badly and, these days, the Belgian bloke mocks me a little.

But then I get on the airport bus and voila, some alchemy occurs and I relax.

I reach the airport boarding lounge and enter that state of ohwellIhopeIreachmydestination.Nothingtobedonenow.

I hate leaving, I love leaving.  Always.  Even on my trike as that very small child.  Fearful and yet needing to go.

Jack and Kay have sent photographs of my destination ... that small village somewhere in Italy.  I do believe I may post one or two photographs.  I'm hoping to photograph at least one good sunset and a sunrise.  I'm hoping for fresh air and good espresso.  I'm hoping to write and take a few hundred good photographs.  I'm hoping to walk far and often.  And that I come home so much healthier than I left.

Just all that.

I'm listening to Josh Garrels ... because I've just found him and I love his music, so much!

3 beautiful things found ...

Today I wandered into my Rome archives and rediscovered this shot where I had ended up using a bridge as my 'tripod' one evening while lost in that city I always get so happily lost in.

The second beautiful thing today was a chat with Lisa Chiodo.  She is one of those magnificent women I get to call a friend.  You can read about her and Sam and their big beautiful dreams over here here on their website

Think about booking a holiday with them too ... you won't regret it  :-)

The third thing ... after dropping Miss 10 off at school this morning, I discovered that the new bakery nearby sells the most divine custard-filled eclairs.  I carried one all the way home, reading Cees Nooteboom's divine book, Roads to Santiago.

A sample of his writing: I wander around.  The coolness of the garden contrasts with the heat of the landscape, the coolness of the church contrasts with that of the garden, it is almost chilly where I am now.  The thick walls of a church prevent the outside air, the ordinary air, from having its way.  Suddenly I am standing before an arbitrary structure made of stone: its mere presence alters the quality of what little air has managed to come in.  This is no longer the air wafting in poplars and clover, the air that is moved this way and that in the breeze.  This air is church air, as invisible as the air outside, but different.  Church-shaped air, permeating the space between the columns and, deathly still, like an absent element, rising up to fill the pointed vaulting constructed of rough-hewn blocks of stone.   There is no one in the church.  Enormous columns rise directly from the paved floor, the position of the sun casts a strange, static pool of light through the oculus somewhere on the right of the church.  It's a little ghostly.  I hear my own footsteps.  This space distorts not only the air, but also the sound of each step I take - they become the steps of someone walking in a church.  Even if one subtracts from these sensations all that one does not in fact believe in oneself, then there's still the imponderable factor that other people do believe, and especially have believed, in this space.

Cees Nooteboom.