LOST WORDS

Do we lose some words over a certain period of time? All those simple phrases like humanity’s most famous one I love you and are we actually able to find them again by letting a bolt of bravery release them from the deepest of our hearts? Isn’t it about words coming along with us even the longest road in life expressing that, what we want and what we should – and our souls in a steady conflict with our rationality because of the one person we literally are not? Words we lived and maybe will, waiting for all those gorgeous days.

In the end lost is lost or should we get an exalted understanding of losing things, paraphrasing it with hidden? The ludicrous character of losing our words is that we actually lose ourselves. One metaphoric lost star, still in that ridiculous belief being one of a kind between a million but never even able to shine brighter then the rest.

And time runs.

So what should we search for among this mega-lie of free men who are nothing but slaves of their own profit? Love? Dreams? Luck? Maybe we shouldn’t forget that losing a part of us means a piece of ourselves is gone and instead of searching ideals of romantic imagination we might be better off getting our fucked up soul back together by facing our struggles. So why not starting to care about things again instead of standing the curios but somehow fashionable idea of giving a shit? What we mustn’t forget is that you don’t love someone for their looks, or their cloths or for their fancy cars, but because they sing a song only you can hear – so our old friend Oscar.

What he doesn’t say is who sings this song. Maybe someone, maybe ourselves or maybe the certain sunrise giving us every new day the chance to find out exactly that: Who are we? So why not loving a bit more in hope for better times - they won't be perfect, but pure.

Cheers

Lorax

I'VE GROWN ACCUSTOMED

The last days of October are usually the most beautiful and charming days of the year. The sun tries one last time more than rather hard to win the simply lost battle against the winter storms, showing us the little power it emphasizes. With the change of seasons and the detested backshift of time it is safe: Darkness does have us back and the first smell of snow blowing down from the glaciers of the Alps overruns the city’s heart. Every year this special sensation catches us again fully unprepared as we’ve grown accustomed this easily to our beloved days in July, but what are those customs we are hope- or hatefully addicted to? And why are we therefore in a state of mind we want the break button to be held? Those situations in between we maybe forgot to appreciate this outstanding moment but were still able to think and even rethink every thing out of the box besides the moment we actually should.

I wonder why we regret such movements as it is in our hands to decide. Are regrets lessons we have to learn in order to realize what we had to do, to become a better or let us say more grown-up person? Maybe it is regrets leading us to let a chance pass by out of our habitude to customs. George Bernhard Shaw reworked the great Greek Myth about Pygmalion at the beginning of the 20^th century caricaturing London’s society. One of the world’s most famous musicals was the final product of Shaw’s oeuvre – My Fair Lady, making impeccable Audrey Hepburn the one and only Eliza Doolittle. It is the very final scene of this piece of art bringing us back to the custom issue. Higgins, the grumpy phonetic-teacher, known as woman hater and treating Eliza the whole piece as a subject of science and of own success sings the following phrase after she left him for maybe ever:

I was serenely independent and content before we met

Surely I could always be that way again but yet

I’ve grown accustomed to her look, her voice, her face

Impalpable things – like the light coming down from a distant star is – do make us regret, often too late to maybe change things in a way round we might not be left without even having known what we had to lose. It is easy criticizing the world around us but it may not be that easy seeing criticism in our regrets, as they are and stay the things we had to walk through in order to even give us the possibility to be sorry for. We may make these errors but should always know never to carry them forward, seeing the future but feeling the past. The only thing we may overpower our customs is the moment we have to tell someone the way we feel for her. I am afraid that this will be the only serious regret we might announce looking back on our lives one day – that too often when we loved, we kept silent.

Cheers

Lorax

THESE WORDS

Yves Saint Laurent once upon a time told the following phrase to a fashion journalist, who asked him what the perfect dress should look like: The most beautiful clothes that can dress a woman are the arms of the man she loves. But for those who haven't had the fortune of finding this happiness, I am there. Should this be love? In a down to earth way – maybe. Yves seemed kind of overmodest but expressed contemporarily his deepest thoughts in this great quote. By hiding his own light, no his life he expressed in designing phenomenal pieces of garment, under a bushel only saying that love described in a metaphor of two strong arms is more worth than his central point of his very own life, he puts the love issue upon nearly everything. I ask myself if he ever was that lucky to experience this feeling and will I ever do? How many unreturned love stories do we have to pass through before finding the other half or will we end like the great master of French fashion alone and secluded? Would we be worth less without someone next to us? In fact it seems not a matter of worth but one of the own appreciation. How do we feel by staying alone and are we happier with it? Do we finally need someone who waits for us at night?

Actually I do adore evenings all alone with myself. Today is one of them. Thinking about the love issue more profoundly, while examining all the Nighthawks of this mild night in May sitting next to my window, I had to note, that we lie to ourselves that often concerning our emotional state of mind. That cool and calm folks we would like to get across isn’t exactly what we were made for. We were made for kissing, loving, struggling, crying and maybe it should happen as often as possible simply reminding us that we are besides all of our daily boast still there being able to hear the words we sometimes wait too desperately for. I am sure that regardless how often somebody told us her last goodbye, knowing she can’t come back, these words still stand up. Regardless how often we got disappointed, standing back frustrated and depressed it was and will be that important to have known somebody, who stood by you loving unconditionally, no matter if the story ended up in disbelief.

Love – curtain of the past, revealing an extraordinary future.

Cheers

Lorax