SOMETIMES I wish I could order a revision of 'my soul on room service and don't bother with all the pain one has to go through when dealing with the matters of the heart. Alas, there is no one else that could do the analysis but yourself and in my case - myself. It is indeed a slow process of revaluation that some time requires conversations with good friends, other times - some me-time but most of all I find myself revealed beneath the gaze of my special Ladybug, who always spots the black dots and ticks aways the white ones. She is a troubled soul like me, you know, but she has so much sunshine in her eyes that almost no one could tell. And yet, I am among the few that know that and I feel blessed for this reason among all others.
Along the journey we had and we are still having there are more than one narratives that do not fit with any I have read and still there are more than one similarities that one could spot. The funny thing is they are always connected to Slavic characters with their sad drunkenness and their absurd wisdom that spurs like an unsaid metaphor when you get to know their characters. Like those Theodore Decker & his Boris whose pathetic, for some, existence has taught me a lesson I couldn't reason to see prior I read "The Goldfinch" by Donna Tartt...
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