The birth of a poem...

The essence of very tiny detail, like a carefully placed comma, or an invisible sigh of admiration, distilled into dewdrops sliding over the long green leaves that protect tulips from overexposure, redeeming the beautiful bold color and adding a dimension of its own.

Then letting it go into thin air, like a weightless particle,arriving in far-away places, like a carefully thought-out idea, a blissful singular event, a flash of infinitesimal brightness, arriving at noon, completely negating shadows and at the same time completely absolving them.

The reign of calm arrived with these words and it is here to stay...



Monday, November 11, 2013

Postcards from Rome

Postcards are a wonderful thing to write, to send, to receive, to read, to marvel at their compact conveyance of thoughtfulness and kindness and visual reminders of beautiful places. In this day and age, when email and texts render letters sent by regular mail virtually obsolete and hand-written letters are a rarity relegated to museums, a postcard still holds its own: it’s usually handwritten, it denotes a thoughtful action on the part of the sender and it creates a handy souvenir for the person receiving it.

Postcards are brief sentimental snapshots of travel or of sojourns in places around the world. I’ve decided to entitle this work “Postcards from Rome” with you, dear reader, as the recipient of my snapshots, my impressions and written sketches and improvisations of Rome, through my eyes and the creative force of my inspiration.

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There’s a multitude of such books, websites, blogs readily available and written with care by much more competent travel writers than me. With information that would cater for the needs of the picky tourist to the seasoned traveler.

My bundle of postcards to you is less conventional, it contains scribbles on napkins, receipts, recipes, quotes, thoughts, impressions, notes, carefully thought out and less so, on this and that, sweet nothings and important snatches of imagination, like a scrapbook filled with care and affection.
Tied up by a satin ribbon for safekeeping and gentle appearance, it goes beyond the sentimental surface and connects all the reflections and impressions from Rome. I present it to you here.

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Why did I want to go to Rome?
Because simply, it’s the most beautiful place in the world. And artists thrive on beauty.
Why did I choose to write about it?
Because I wanted to voice that beauty, through my own way of describing, to capture the city the way I saw it, the way I felt it. All the books and websites in the world weren’t enough to prepare me for the feeling. I hope to be able to render that nearly impossible feat here.

So I wrote this in order to have something to remember, and in order to give you, dear reader, something to remember me by.








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