If only I had known.
Talk the people regretting their choices. Other ones look through and stay in trust.

Again I listen to the same song, the same lyrics, the same repetitive chorus and one sentence that is already curved in my mind – “Africa, mon ami”. It gives me so many reflective images, so many feelings, so many emotions. Each day I start with the same melody. Each page that I start to write I listen to those tunes. It gives me peace and clarity. I can see through. My mind is clear. I know where to go and what to say to people. I know what to write. I know what to think to still remain myself. Not to be dragged into the river of the system, of collective consciousness. Like now. It is 3:34 a.m. and I know I will write. First this text and if inspiration stays blissful maybe another one. What I want to tell is that this song reminds me about the past and create beautiful future. It means that I can build my presence into the melody of continent that I don't even know but that is calling me so strongly. It gives relief from the moment and creates the images that I want to live and I already lived. I am sitting in a kitchen. Two meters behind the window is most adorable peace of yellow wall with its paint that scratched by wind, rain and snow creates meditative fragment of our existence. Now only darkness but in my mind those few bricks that showed up below.

Last few days I had aching pain. I slept all those time. In between my dreams I was sipping tea after tea watching that wall. I had no wanders. I felt calm. At the same time awaken from my dream, from my visions, from my illusions. I faced reality. It crashed on me suddenly. Then I felt stupid. Nevertheless connection was unquestioned and ultimate. The will of sharing love, pain and choice. Freedom of choice. Choice of freedom. In my mind the wind had enough space to cross it without feeling any resistance. The feeling was kind of those when you are going to fly on paraglide. First you have to climb the hill in the morning, to catch the wind which starts to blow after midday. Then you have to untangle all the lines that you could lift the glide. After that you wait and get prepared in your mind to fly. When the times comes, you put on a harness and click the holders of your helmet. The sign is that you can start. Adrenaline is rising in your veins, you can see only this endless landscape below your feet. The fact that in few minutes you will be there in this space pumps up your blood faster. You infiltrate your glide, you stabilize it, you give it a speed, then you load it and then you............................................
feel nothing. Emptiness. You are in the sky but suddenly the wind does not exist any more. There is no fear, no adrenaline, no higher feelings. You start to fall down. You feel very calm and you enjoy this emptiness.

Today I woke up. I put on Africa song and I knew it will be a good day. I will meet all those beautiful people of the North, I will enjoy their presence and try to squeeze from the life as much as I can. And all those actions I put into the life. Sometimes they seemed so stupid, so useless, so pointless. I questioned so many times myself – why are you taking those photos? You will never have a vernisage. Maybe only few will see them, you spend too much money on this material. Why have you just bought this printer when you barely can pay in the shopping mall. All those questions of demons in my mind that try to make me unmoved. I didn't try to answer those questions. Maybe they were in the place where they were supposed to be. But the feelings coming up from the opposite side were repeating- Just do it and stay in trust. So I did. I took those photos, that I never showed to anyone. Even few large prints are still getting dust on my grandfather's shelve. I bought this printer, starving for a while. Few days ago I woke up and I knew I will use those things. The photos have been waiting for this day half a year, the printer a little bit less. I chose three and made from them an image that for all of those who are reading now this text mean nothing. But for one person mean all his life. After that, today I heard one sentence – Thank you for photos, they are very beautiful. The feeling that I had and still have is indescribable, the tears are falling down no one knows why. Again this trust that saved me so many times. That I was in the right place and in the right moment. That I give to people something that they are glad about. Those small things that many don't even notice, those small gestures that change all our lives, those small moments that remain in our hearts, echoing with theirs intensity for ages, to the end.
And it is not about money, not about fancy presents, not about luxury gifts. It is about the presence, about unquestioned and ultimate empathy. About the willing of sharing love, pain and choice. Choice of presence. Presence of choice.
It is about the beauty that surrounds us from each corner of our eyes. But still we have to want to perceive it.

And tomorrow I will wake up. I will call my friend if he can cut few birches for me. And again I will cross streets of this city admiring my choice of presence here, even if sometimes demons try to tell me I shouldn't be here. I will watch all this beautiful white powder on the streets and remember the last night when I was fighting for my life while skiing them down to get to the main square. And again I will rise my look up. I will point out from uncountable numbers of windows the one where the day before I saw the silhouettes of my beautiful north souls watching me climbing up the most amazing illusional mountain in this city. The mountain of snow that without any reason someone built up in the middle of the square from the snow that had been taken away from the pavements. I will see the marks. The marks of my presence in this city. I will pass by and see where is the best place for spreading my stories' words to the passing crowd. To exist for a while. Maybe it is pointless. As many other actions I has already taken in my life. But maybe there will be this one person who will not be in a hurry, who will stop in this Arctic freezing cold and listen to the stories that I wrote in Africa. Maybe someone will just be there – present as I will be. And even without saying anything I will know it was a right decision. Because I love people. And I love beauty of this world. And when those two go together the tears are dropping down. The tears of this unquestioned ultimate Love. This willing of sharing love, pain and choice. Choice of Love. Love of Choice.





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I finished. Same my music. I put the last dot in the last sentence and the last song just cut off. It is cut off somehow in itself. But the music stopped exactly in the moment this text is finished. Now I will open the story that I want to finish as well and put again the first song about Africa. To get again into my interior calmness. To my concentration. To think about my past and about the future. And what will come will be the best. Good night. It is 4:25 am. Thursday night. 11th of March.