small series of serendipities

 Serendipity: 
the faculty or phenomenon of finding valuable or agreeable things not sought for; also :an instance of this. 
Origin: from its possession by the heroes of the Persian fairy tale The Three Princes of Serendip. 
First Known Use: 1754

Images: Europe; early Spring  2015
Camera: Samson (iPhone 6) 
Filters: VSCo Cam
Words:  Henry and Claire's, Time Traveler's Wife, Audrey Niffenegger  
(except  conversations attributed to someone else's...)
Playlist: 
        Boys on the Side Soundtrack 
        Heartbeats, Jose Gonzales
        Northern Sky, Nick Drake 
        Until These Tears Are Gone, Young Oceans 
        Tonight, All Sons and Daughters 
        If We're Honest, Francesca Battistelli
        The Wait , Sandra McCracken
        Cactus in the valley, Lights
        Quelqu’un m’a dit,  Carla Bruni
   


 Unforgetful  you: Geneve et Bern
Don't you think it's better to be extremely happy for a short while, even if you lose it, than to be just okay for your whole life?




"So, how do you find Geneva?" 
Typically European. 
Nothing that stands out.
It's you. 
This. 
Walking its streets. 
US.
Being here with you.
 ...in this moment. 
 It's what makes it special for me. 
( evening conversation along the streets of Geneve)


“… dead people need us to remember them, even if it eats us, even if all we can do is say I'm sorry until it is as meaningless as air.” 


“‎I never wanted to have anything in my life 
that I couldn't stand losing.
But it's too late  for that.” 














                       













Home sweet home.  No place like home.  
Take me home, country roads.

Home is where the heart is.  


But my heart is here.

So I must be home.
I'm home. 
I'm home.  

   
Falling into You: Copenhagen 






Maybe I'm dreaming you.  
Maybe you're dreaming me;
maybe we only exist in each other's dreams
and every morning
when we wake up

we forget all about each other.




If I'd known you were coming, 
I'd cleaned up a little more, 
my life I meant, 
not just my apartment.




 “Everything seems simple until you think about it.” 



“My apartment is basically a couch, an armchair, and about four thousand books.” 




 “Each moment that I wait feels like a year, an eternity. Each moment is as slow and transparent as glass. Through each moment I can see infinite moments line up, waiting... 

...Why has he gone where I cannot follow?” 



Enchanting you: Prague 
There are several ways to react to being lost. One is to panic. Another is to abandon yourself to lostness, to allow the fact that you've misplaced yourself to change the way you experience the world. 






















“The choices we’re working with here are a block universe, where past, present and future all coexist simultaneously and everything has already happened; chaos, where anything can happen and nothing can be predicted because we can’t know all the variables; and a Christian universe in which God made everything and it’s all here for a purpose but we have free will anyway.” 
   Sarah: Well, if we're meant to meet again, we'll meet again. it's just not the right time now. 

   Jonathan: Maybe we're supposed to meet on British time and we're five hours too early.



“How do you know? I mean, if I was making you up, and I didn't want you to know you were made up, I just wouldn't tell you, right?” 



Dreaming of you: Bruges 
We laugh and laugh, and nothing can ever be sad, no one can be lost, or dead, or far away: right now we are here, and nothing can mar our perfection, or steal the joy of this perfect moment.



Running is many things to me: survival, calmness, euphoria, solitude.
It is proof of my corporeal existence, my ability to control my movement through space if not time, and the obedience, however temporary, of my body to my will. 
As I run I displace air, and things come and go around me, and the path moves like a filmstrip beneath my feet.” 

"It's hard being left behind. (...) 
It's hard to be the one who stays.” 






It comes back to you: Paris 

What we need,' Henry says, 'is a fresh start. A blank slate. 
Let's call her Tabula Rasa.

What is more basic than the need to be known?
 It is the entirety of intimacy, the elixir of love, 
this knowing.






Now I wonder if it means that the future is a place, or like a place, that I could go to; 
that is go to in some way other
than just getting older. 


“Absence can be present, 
like a damaged nerve..." 


“I'm living under water. Everything seems slow and far away. I know there's a world up there, a sunlit quick world where time runs like dry sand through an hourglass, but down here, where I am, air and sound and time and feeling are thick and dense.” 


“I go to sleep alone, and wake up alone. 
I take walks.
 I work until I'm tired. 
I watch the wind play with the trash that's been under the snow all winter. 
Everything seems simple until you think about it. 
Why is love intensified by absence?” 






If there is only one page left to write on. 
I will fill it with words of only one syllable. 

I love. 


I have loved. 


I will love.


I will love.









“The compelling thing about making art - or making anything, I suppose - is the moment when the vaporous, insubstantial idea becomes a solid there, a thing, a substance in a world of substances.” 



“To world enough and time.” 















































































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