Basbussa Bus

oshrat morad, smile you are on google!

yes. i will start with brown sugar and cinnamon. cookies, crushing in my mouth. pear juice traveling down my throat. chocolate and fruit melting on my tongue. water and lemon, and strawberry smell in the Berlin wind. and black fruits and a small roof made of straw. yes sweetness, for the first time in my life, i recognize you. i know who you are.

1) i love that part in which margherita has the manuscript in her closet, she reads it every once in a while- then she puts on some lotion to become invisible and to be able to fly- and she flies over moscow with her maid! 

2) Sometimes I try to clean up my life. I’ve given up the idea of throwing away objects, accumulation is my addiction (one of them, anyway). So I just clean up my life from people who lie, who talk too much, who do not meet the requirements of friendship by hiding important things from me. And by doing so, I improve my knowledge of friendship. And make more room for real friends. 

3) Shabbat cooking- mmmhh I’d like to make something new and special this coming week.

4) I saw some stockings with a giraffe, the head was on the feet and the legs were going upwards.

I stole the following conversation between a playwright and his friends: it took place a few months ago.

M:Ho pensato che se non ti era piaciuto il mio ultimo spettacolo ti poteva piacere questo.
D: Hai fatto bene, d’altronde se non mi era piaciuto, vediamo se stavolta riesci a tirare fuori qualcosa di buono.
M: Ho scelto un’attrice. Ti mette la depressione, il senso di morte. Ma ci scambi due parole e non te la togli poiù dalla mente. Comunque sarà ambientato a Berlino.
D: Questo mi fa paura.
M: Sì, ti fa paura, perchè hai paura di dovermi dire, alla fine dello spettacolo, che il nome della strada era sbagliato.
D: Sì, hai proprio capito tutto. Temo per i nomi delle strade.

-Pausa-

S: Ma vieni a berlino, dai.
M: A fare cosa? Se mi dici cosa si va a fare… se si va a fare qualcosa.
S: Si va a guardare le facce della gente.
M: Chissà come sono belle.
S: Appunto. Si va a guardare le belle facce della gente.
M: Comunque è lì che sbagli.

In my egg, there is a boy who is a living contradiction. I love him dearly but he makes me angry. He’s an artist and nothing else but he’s wasting his life looking for something he doesn’t even know the shape and color of. For years I have been wondering what the answer for him could be, and only now I know that only by breathing and eating and drinking his own expressive creation will he be able to fulfill all his desires and to obtain everything else he wants. Some people are so clearly made for something it’s just a pity, an unforgivable sin for themselves and for others to not follow their own desires. Because "it’s never too late" doesn’t apply to art. People will ask you where you have been for all this time, what it is exactly that you’ve actually grown out of as an artist, and you’ve got to have a solid background. Lazy people cannot be artists. Artists should hurry up and most die before maturity. What a waste of beauty. Oh well.

I live in a funny little island and there’s something new happening every day.

It’s an egg. A lizard egg in the mud.

I live in an egg.

Shall we talk about the word egg? So self contained, open and outgoing at first and then blocked and locked. And since one "g" wasn’t enough to lock and seal the egg, they decided to put two. EgG, ok? Even if you manage to trespass the first g,  there’s another defence g to protect the inside.  So much more meaningful than its Italian equivalent UOVO , which is just an onomatopoeia of when the egg is rolling vertically on the table, before falling. If you listen closely, it sounds like this: UUUUH OOOOOH UUUUH OOOO. Hence, UOVO. Which also contains OVO, a round word symbolizing the roundness of the egg and of life. Now, in french the word oeuf does not make any sense. Except that it recalls the sound you make when you are dropping the egg. "Oeuffff, shit, I dropped the egg!!!!". In German, endlich, Ei is so similar to the English "Eye". After all, eggs kind of look like eyeballs.

If I am not mistaken, years ago there existed a season called winter. People would happily confine themselves inside the house and play the piano, paint their bodies, put nail polish on, shave their legs, take long baths, hug their dogs, sip vin brulee and hot tea and light candles. Now, this everlasting summer makes things really hard because our (my) human (animal) nature prevents us (me) from staying home when it’s warm and sunny outside. And since I don’t have a balcony where I can sit and carry on doing my activities, my not-being-able-to-stay-at-home translates into a total inability to do anything whatsoever. What a waste of time.

If global warming really kicks in, i will definitely need a terrace to live in. Oh yes, I want a square terrace, and i’ll make a rainforest out of it. There will be shady area, many plants, a sunbathing zone, an eating section, a massage department and room for the dog. Otherwise, i’ll need to start thinking of moving to Sweden, cause i need some fresh air and some dark days to force me inside the house.

This article in the newspaper today said that Italy in 2050 will be a desert, that the Alps will be green and rainy with no snow and that the Italian summer will be unbearable. And that tourists from the North will have no reason to come to Italy on vacation in the summertime as the northern coasts of Europe will be tropical heavens.

I mean come on, it’s Jan 7 but it looks like Aug 1st in Dubai - and now i’m on my way to the park, where I will do nothing at all.

Anne, I miss you so much!