river

Sometimes you' ve got to let a river clean you.

Was feeling kinda sad yesterday. It was hot. I could stay home. Or I could use the car to get near nature. 

I chose the latter. Isn't it great to have a river so close? 15 minutes and you are somewhere else. Away from the city, next to the river.

Freeda in the back, music in the CD player, the hot road ahead. 

We got near the river. It was really noisy and cool. We walked under the trees. It was quiet and beautiful.

My feet froze in the river water. But it was worth it.

Driving alone. A small trip. A small victory. 

Slowly I'm gaining my freedom.

on talent

"I decided to stop moaning and do something about it."
Lately, I hear this phrase very often.

Young, beautiful, prosperous. Deprived of dreams and hopes. Yet, they decide to get out. Meet others. Use their talents.

They form small groups.

They are farmers, photographers, actors, painters, puppeteers, writers... Whatever the talent, it is put to use. Not for money. For salvation. Our talents are a life vest. Many talents put toghether are a life saving boat.

In my reality, there are lots of life saving boats. Warm smiles. Clear, sincere eyes. The ocean is really hard. The waves are big and strong.

But we will make it.

Once upon a time there was a blog...

Once upon a time there was a blog.

It was born out of a need of expression. A need to write. A need to be.

It came out of a cyber womb. It was empty, yet full of promises.

The blogs' mother gave it a name. The name had a promise. Never to stop writing about a journey. A life journey.

The word "never" is heavy. A blog, like a baby needs nurturing. It needs to be filled with words. Not just words. Stories. Our blog was really happy because its stories were funny, interesting, full of love for nature and animals. Full of dreams waiting to be fullfilled.

Every day, new words were filling it. And pictures. Lovely pictures next to the words. This blog was happy. Once in a while, the blog would be read by someone. Someone who would be kind enought to comment on its stories. And the blog was happy.

It was growing. More people would visit it. A tiny blog from nowhere, was becoming something. It found other blogs to communicate and it felt like it belonged to a blog family. A family of dreamers. A family where words mattered. Where stories mattered.

Sometimes the stories were not happy, other times stories were exciting.

Two years passed and the blog had character. It had style and was self confident.

But stories came slower and slower. It was not a daily story board anymore. It was more like a monthly story board.

Its mother had other things to do. She was busy. She was visiting everyday, but there were no words to nurture it. There came a time where she had not given a story to her blog for two months. It seemed once, that the blog was her only refuge. A place to reveal her most secret thoughts, to self critisize and evolve.

The name of the blog came under the microscope. What was its true meaning? Was its name literal? Or was it more like a general term? Our blog was filled with doubt. Will it ever be an actual travel blog? Will it be the diary of a self centered, void. would-be writer?

At the moment this blog is crying out for stories. It's crying out for attention. It is crying and shouting: "No more Facebook please!, I'm here too and I need your words, your stories and your pictures."

I better listen. My stories will be back soon.