Last night my childhood cat passed away. She’s been with us for 14 years and it was my dad that found her. As my mum was telling me what happened between sobs, I tried to push back the tears and be the strong one because I knew I was really lucky not being there or being the one that found her.
“We also have to put this into account,”she said between sobs, “That there will come a day when they will be gone.” I looked at Cleo, my cat, sleeping next to me on the sofa and thought, “Not a chance.” I don’t want to be there when she dies. I don’t want to see it and I don’t want to experience it.
But in the little town I live in, the closest gym is 30 minutes walk from home and because I’m lazy, I couldn’t find a plausible reason to do a 30 minutes exercise-walk, to then do a 30/45 minutes yoga and then head back home for another 30 minutes exercise-walk.
Yea, no thank you.
Salt. is a collection of poems about emotions and experiences in sometimes, just a couple of words. The poems range from narrating about love, pain and womanhood to race, Africa and family. I picked it because I wanted to step outside my comfort zone of classic literature and I have to say I was overall surprised.
It’s not a book that you have to read in one sitting; I’ve read it while reading other books, between other books, and it was a good distraction filled with emotions, warmth and inspiration. I have to admit despite the positive reviews some poems weren’t really my cup of tea. In some poems I couldn’t feel there was a ‘story’ being told but rather sentences stating randomly related facts.
But poetry doesn’t speak to us in one language and we don’t have to always find ourselves in poetry. I enjoyed it; it was a fast read aiming at leaving something inside you that is meant to stay. The world needs more poetry.
Despite the exciting synopsis, I have to admit I was left a bit disappointment and my excitement turned into wanting to finish the book as soon as possible so I could start a new one.
It wasn’t the prose and writing I struggled with though reading the main character’s POV was a bit too too long in certain bits. My struggle was with the trying to connect all the pieces together, especially the timeline.
Living in a small town in Italy is just what you might be imagining; the little pedestrian city centre surrounded by two story houses with red roofs. The Saturday morning market that fills the main street. The silent Sundays giving space to bells of nearby churches. The lovely scenery and the mountains peaking at the the horizon.
But for someone born and bred in a city, there are also the poor public transportation with a schedule not being followed. The long distance between one place to the other for those without a driving license. The million pharmacies and the million restaurants with the same type of cuisine. The silence of most nights and of all Sundays.
And knowing almost everyone you meet in the streets.
My colleague gave me a ride back home today, after a teacher’s training session that finished at 7pm, and I told her how I was followed by a guy Saturday morning after I went grocery shopping. It was one of those female bonding moments where she gasped and looked worried and told me if I was alright….until she ruined it.
Basically, Saturday morning I woke up and went to buy a few things. As I was walking back home, a guy started commenting on how the plastic bags, aren’t really that resistant. Unlike condoms. I comment politely saying that if they weren’t that would be a problem. Then, he asked if I lived nearby and I said no, wished him a good day and walked a few more blocks to make sure I wasn’t followed before I headed back home.
As I was browsing through Instagram, drinking wine and looking at the photos of people on vacation. People living a vacation. People smiling. Laughing. Eating fancy food. And basically doing everything without a worry in the world- or so it seems- I remembered this quote I had saved some months ago.
“Not my circus, not my monkeys.”
– Polish Proverb.
We ignore my mom rolling her eyes and pretending she doesn’t know us as we put that Mentos, where it’s supposed to be and that crackers back with its brothers and sisters. We cannot simply ‘leave it there’, because ‘there’ is not its place. And what annoys me is why someone has decided to leave that chocolate near enough to its right place and not where its supposed to be. So someone has to do it.