#BookOfThoughts

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€30.00

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This book is a collection of my thoughts. Every day, every hour, every minute – every single moment – I find interesting thoughts, phrases, quotes and I take a note of them. I think about their meaning, implication, their importance to my life. This book will bring you feelings of positivity, luminosity, and grace. You will be able to find both my positive and my negative thoughts as there were light and dark moments in my life. I have experienced an immeasurable number of obstacles in my life – I have climbed high mountains, stepped on sharp stones, swam in icy water, and run through the fire to find my meaning and until I made peace with myself and my imperfections. Until I fell in love with myself not the way I am, but the way I have always been. Until I reached the point where I understood that I don’t want to change anything about me and that my imperfections make me my own form of perfect. And I love it. This book contains thoughts I wrote down many years ago. I found them in my old notebooks, dusted them off and allowed them to take a fresh breath of air. I tried not to remember the moments in which I wrote my thoughts down, but rather to experience them again. However, this book also contains thoughts from more recent days. They have been written in the most unexpected places – planes, cars, work, even on holidays. All of these thoughts have been inspired by different places, people, quotes, feelings. I need these thoughts in the same way as I need air to breathe, the same way a fish needs water, or the bird needs the sky, or human beings need love… I invite you into the world of my own thoughts – into my obsessions, my demons and angels, my fortune and pain, my happy and sad moments. Essentially, I am a book – “Pick me up and read me…”

ISBN 978-1-326-81238-6

Imprint: Lulu.com

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I sit in my regular cafe at my regular table. A cup of Greek coffee on the table as usual. The morning sun sends her kisses to the ground, all you have to do is to catch them. They kiss my skin, colouring it in summer colours and shades.

I sit and wait. Usually, he used to pass the cafe at the same time each day. An old man and his little dog, who constantly fiddled in the shade of the old man. I used to look at him and the same lines from Ernest Hemingway's book always flashed before my eyes.

“The old man was thin and restrained, with a neck riddled with deep folds...”

“His shirt was no less flabby than a sail, and the patches faded from the sun with uneven spots.”

They used to walk along the prom in one direction, and after a while, they slowly walked back, each time in sync. The slow steps of the hunched old man and the jog trot of his dog in his shadow.

I used to sit in the cafe and wait for them every morning. They never looked around, as if there was nothing around them. Just a big wide sea, a boat, and fish, as in Ernest Hemingway's book ‘The Old Man and the Sea’. The old man and his dog. Morning. Seaside, and time which seemed to stop around them. I watched them from the cafe table and asked myself in the old man's words.

“Happiness comes to man in various forms, and who can know it?”

We often don't recognise happiness. I don't know if the old man was happy or not. I don't know the story of his life. I don't know who he was, what his name was or even what kind of person he was. My happiness was to watch him walk slowly along the promenade. He never turned his head and never noticed me, but I watched him for several years. Every time I sat down in the same cafe at the table and took my morning cup of coffee into my hands, I waited for his trip along the seashore. I waited for the old man and his dog.

He no longer walks along the promenade. Neither him nor his dog. I sit in the same cafe and drink the same coffee, and for some reason, I continue to wait. I know he won't come. He didn't come last year, though I waited all week. He didn't come yesterday. He will not come today, and he will not come tomorrow.

I do not know his fate. I will never know. But this coast, this cafe and this morning cup of coffee will constantly bring me memories of the old man and his dog.

With a sip of strong Greek coffee, another words from Ernest Hemingway's book pop into my mind.

“My alarm clock is old age. Why do you get up so early? Is it because you want to extend this day?”

For some reason, looking at that blue sea, at the people walking along the promenade, I would like to see him again - the old man and his dog. They are a symbol of my Summer - I watched them, waited for them and admired them in my own way. I miss that harmony between the old man and his dog's morning walk because my morning coffee is not the same without them. It seems that my morning coffee that one week in the year lost its taste without that harmony. It seems that its aroma faded in the rising Cretan sun. It seems that losing that harmony, the taste of my morning coffee was carried away by a mischievous northern wind.

The old man and his dog. The sea. The promenade. The aroma of Greek coffee. And a lost sirtaki note flying from somewhere far away...