Simple as a teenage dream
Today I woke up to a strange sensation, as if I were floating in a world of zero gravity, full of silence and peace. Filled with curiosity, I examined my surroundings like someone seeing a new world for the first time. I rolled over to one side of the bed, rolled over to the other, without the courage to break the spell. Eventually I plucked up the courage and peered around to see if there was anything different in the other parts of the house. Everything seemed to be the same, but there was a charm in the air.
While I was having breakfast, I opened social media to see what was up. Instead of the usual advertisements and photos of vacations and friends' parties, this time I was treated to a plethora of posts with beautiful images of Japan, with details of watercolor and oil paintings, films about making tangerine peels stuffed with black tea leaves for the tea ceremony... The universe seemed to conspire to ensure that the feeling of enchantment from earlier lasted.
When I'd finished my coffee, feeling guilty for spending so much time immersed in other people's daydreams, I decided to turn on my computer and, as I do every morning, take a look at Google Analytics. "Damn," I said aloud, as I closed the laptop screen with a sudden movement. "What's wrong?" asked Tan, stopping at the office door. "The number of readers of my blog isn't growing, no matter what I do." "Relax, woman, you spend a lot of energy on this blog. So much effort only bores the reader. They feel obliged to like it. People prefer something that seems to have been born out of thin air, that wasn't the result of passion or perspiration".
As I find it hard to believe in anything that hasn't been generated by my own reasoning, however crude, I put Tan's observations away in a corner of my brain and went back to social media to see if I could recover my earlier good mood. In one of the first posts I saw, I came across a quote by Carpinejar, whom I like very much: 'To wait for great events is to watch life pass by. Joy is made up of details'. Well, wasn't it true what Tan had said? There, written on a piece of paper napkin, like pub philosophy, was the proof.
Carpinejar, the son of two great poets, himself a successful writer, as well as an experienced radialist, every day twists and turns his soul and psyche to generate simple but profound phrases that have become a fever on social media. There is nothing simple about this supposed simplicity, which can be understood by anyone. Carpinejar is a master of form and content.
Although the lesson had been properly understood, when it came to putting it into practice, I didn't know what to do. I lack writing and social skills. Therefore, I decided to focus my attention on creating the day's illustration. "I know how to do this with an air of simplicity. I'm going to create it with the look of my old drawings". What came out of this, a few minutes later, was a dream of adolescence, this adolescence that insists on not leaving me, even though my body screams that it's been over for a long, long time.
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