22/06/2021
Love is a bit like an old European town. Full of tangled streets. Some of them are charming, filled with cafés, lovley meetings, memories scented like flower. Others are unpleasant, stink with p**s, and there is some hardship in the heart while passing them. And then there are other, dull ones, with nothing to be upset about but also with not a single thing to be impressed about.
It's the chaos of stories, emotions, feelings, moments, and people that pass you by quickly and those who stop for a moment to chat with you. From the ground level it all seems complicated, tangled, but sometimes also familiar to such extent that you think you know the whole town, that you memorized all its corners.
But if you look at it from a different perspective, above the surface, the chaos of the streets, of the town, of life, seems to be much more in order. Ochre roofs seems to fluidly fit each other. Streets create perfect connection that totally makes sense. Campanilas and towers that grow from the urban landscape remind of all big life events which we usually do not expect, yet forward which we always looking for, especially passing dull and sad streets.
And then, while seeing the town from above, we can notice that there is always something more than just little streets which we pass... Something bigger. A mountain, a see, a forest, or simply an endless horizon. And then the town looks small, little, but not meaningless. It's a tiny part of a bigger whole, and within that whole it's no longer chaos. It's a part of an infinite peace.
