Wandering boots by Zuzana Hlubinová

12/03/2010 18:32

I am a curious girl. I love discovering, trying new things, looking into holes and finding out what is hidden inside. I love walking. Just walking, walking, walking. For hours. Not looking at the time, not perceiving the passers-by, not interested in what is going on around me. Just walking. Absorbing the dreamy atmosphere of a particular place. Letting my feet use their own brain. Feeling the heat of the concrete so close as my own heartbeat. Touching the walls and feeling the life pulsing inside them. It is like being locked in an enormous ball made of glass where everything is so fragile.

One day I decided to be the first to touch the heart of Bologna. Great, ancient, full of undiscovered miracles. Music going on day and night. Ambulances passing, leaving that strong feeling inside you. There is someone dying every second and you feel so powerless. The destiny is playing tricky games with us. It is a sugar city. Everything is sweet and covered with sugar. Isn’t it strange that even the tears are sweet and taste like caramel? Those tears that are shed every day by the eyes blinded by the sun and snow. 

Can you feel the spirit of the golden medieval times? It is breathing in every cathedral, in every church, every pavement hides a soul under and all these souls are talking to me. They want to tell me thousands of stories, stories of the people that loved and were deluded, that sacrificed everything for the sake of love, that were so unhappy that they cursed the world around them. But the fate wanted the city to persist. To show its beauty to the future generations, to prove that the human hand can bring the stone to life.

In the cold winter you feel the need of a warm contact. Strangers kissing in the dead of night, passionate embraces, burning shadows. It makes you touch the hand of a man standing at the corner of the street, frowning, desperately hoping, waiting for the one who will never come. Every night he stands there with a bouquet of red roses, whispering the divine name which slowly rises towards the stars. Why is it that in places like this, swarming, never quiet, one is so lonely?

I was waiting too. Waiting for him to come. And when I finally see his figure in the distance, everything inside me starts to roll, bloom, scream. Then he comes close to me and smiles. Suddenly I know that to touch the heart of this city I don’t have to search far. Cause it is inside of me all the time.

 

Wandering boots by Zuzana Hlubinová

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