After the return from the Flanders fields, I decided to write more again (yes, not only all my science-related stuff I'm spending much time on, but just more impressionistic little texts, hälsningar to all my forgotten blogs and stuff).
It's really hard to feel that time's so incredibly merciless, so that the memories of the past are going deeper and deeper. It's hard to believe that I was so young and open to the world many years ago, and now I can't even say I'm really experienced and grown-up.
Some triggers, anyway, work very well, as filling me with happiness is concerned. While left tête-à-tête with nature, all I basically feel just pure happiness. Sometimes small towns can also be nice, peaceful and friendly (and there are such places even in Stockholm and Riga). I love Bruges, for instance. It's all that pure happiness, especially calm chilly evenings, when you can climb the hill with the mill, turn to the right and watch the full moon, close your eyes for a second and feel all this blessed calmness covering you. Wonderful. Lakes are good. Sunsets are good. Big rivers and water, actually. The sea, of course.
So good luck, my life. There are moments when the time stops and I feel happy, just beyond any doubt. It seems that for these moments I'm truly alive. Perhaps I'm just living when I feel something that is real and lasts sort of forever, like the sea or the forest. Occasional bursts of misanthropy and overall tendency for introversion just turn me towards something lacking all unnecessary noise and bustle: I don't know why, but I'm often so tired of that,
I enjoy listening to the francophones.
Or live classical music performances (well, I'm exaggerating speaking about only classical music here, but live and choral/symphonic/orchestral should capture the idea).
Or just silence.