It's been a long time, I know. I'm alone again, but not in my heart.
Finally there's sun, and bird's chatter. The wind still gives me shivers, but it's smell carries the promise of Spring. Soon I'll be digging in the garden with my Aunt, in order to plant various new floral specimens. There are vegetables to be sown. I'm thinking of Summer and it's possibilities. Where will I go?Decisions are yet before me.
For the last two weeks I was rather distracted by the arrival of my loved one, therefore was unable to create to such extent as I normally do. I started to work with felt again and found another place to "exibit" it.
Yesterday attended a memorial mass for my sweet, departed Bro. It's been ten years since he passed away. I felt highly uncomfortable during the whole time in the chapel. Despite the fact that O. was by my side, I couldn't help but to produce a heavy sigh of discontent every now and then. Listening to a catholic priest is a pure nightmare. This man had nothing to say but admit that Death is inevitable and there's nothing we can do about it, BUT there is life in JESUS!! Kingdom of heaven is our only true target and we should eagerly wait for it's coming!Surely my Bro would be overfuckingwhelmed seeing this whole spectacle being held every year in honour of his memory.
After flat sermon, some incredibly humble nun with a moustache came to sing a song with a high voice. Song was almost direct repetition of words already uttered by a priest during his "speech". This is how brainwashing looks like. They talk about the same bloody thing over and over again until weak and feeble take it as a ultimate truth. Was bored to death. I think I can't take more than one mass of this type every ten years. Actually I'd prefer never to be forced to take part in such event EVER AGAIN.
Then, at the very end someone was playing a trumpet, quite skillfuly. I couldn't shake off image of a pinguin playing on it. Later on I found out It wasn't nun but some guy- supposedly 'first trumpeter of Białystok'.
And for the whole time some saint looking nun was eyeing us all from the big picture above the altar. I liked the clouds of the stormy sky over her head.
O. looked quite relaxed until we went to a stone to light a hearth. Sadness got the better of us.
Speaking of the dead-there is a splendid cementary in Suprasl. If it wasn't for the weather, we'd stay there longer to snoop around...
No comments:
Post a Comment