Casa Robino

Keep walking, though there's no place to get to.Don't try to see through the distances.That's not for human beings. Move within, but don't move the way fear makes you move.- RumiTranscended into the mystical.But the days that will follow will rough and jagged days. I have accepted defeat for I gave everything. Meanwhile, the war still surrounds. Lift up rocks and you see them crawling underneath, guns by their side. They make love to their wives with glazed eyes. Sleeping in a grey building that climbs far up into the sky. Never slept so high up before, I think, wonder if it effects my dreams. Spend my days with the horniest cat I've ever known, more than kitten before she got spayed in A'dam. She screams and screams louder than a baby. Wants to make love to me real good. This time is what I needed (but unsure about the cat's purpose in all of this), to get myself back together, for slow days of walks through cemeteries and pouring over poems, writing more than I've ever done in my life. The gravestones are adorned by hand made drawings of the dead. Some seem to be almost ready to eat the artist with eyes so observant, mechanical. Some, we found, smile and they made me smile in return, for who could have their death etched in misery and a cold goodbye?Goodbyes are more difficult than I knew possible. In fact, I stop believing in them and only notice the absence much later. Sprawled across the bed last night, the night flooding out of me. The girl waiting in the shadows, every night, had detached me from what was once gruelling, sent diving back into my words, perched upon a fence as they spoke away about my dutch [gobbledeegook with lots of breathing h's), a beer in my hand, looking up at the night sky, grey buildings leering beside me.Rumi had saved me multiple times these past days, leafing through his words.Give thanks always.Even if these following days will be the most difficult I have known; wholly unnatural as a fish being separated from its ocean, I have known the incredible. I know the incredble. Never has something been more clear.And I was diving through those pages, again in complete wonder, laughing quietly to myself, tending softly to distance and all that it implies. I came to the end of the book and suddenly, I began to weep and cry out of shock and joy. Out of everything in the last days, this shocked me most, from a book containing the poetry of a mystic philosopher. So free of cynicism, pure as a river as of these last days, as of the clarity that possessed me to come down to bulgaria.This was what induced such emotion :A recipe for Chana Masaledar by the translator (chickpeas from Kashmir) [the relationship between student and teacher is that of the chef and chickpeas in a pot].You think I'm torturing you. I'm giving you flavour , so you can mix it with rice and spices and be the lovely vitality of a human being.I let the tears drop slowly down my cheeks, and I sleep.