Dear Diary (Chapter 23)

Dear Diary today I woke up dreaming that life was like a bouquet of tulips, in a bunch, on a vase on top of a dinner table, in an apartment on a hill, next to a lake, surrounded by mountains, under a cloudy sky and enjoying the mildness of a sunny day with little humidity and a temperature of 16 degrees Celsius…

If you think this is some kind of hallucination, you would be quite wrong. Sometimes I just like to let an unconscious stream of words flow unimpeded, unchecked, unedited and smooth. And the tulips are quite real. They are actually my favourite flowers, especially the yellow ones. When you bring them home, hopefully a very fresh bunch, they look amazing. They are standing like soldiers at attention.

But soon the sun will begin to filter through a window, a sliding glass door, a hole in the wall, wherever, and the tulips will begin to turn towards those magical and invisible rays and they will begin to lean forwards, backwards, to the right, to the left and the bunch will go from «attention» to «at ease»…

So life is like a bunch of tulips, we go from attention to relaxation, from standing firm to leaning, from fresh and new to withered and old. There is no shame in ageing, on the contrary, there should be gratitude. And I think tulips are always grateful to exist, even in a bunch, in a vase, on top of the dinning room table, in an apartment on a hill, close to the lake, surrounded by mountains and blessed with the light of the sun.

Cheers…