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.
Of the many things me and my dad share- not being able to let go what we cannot control, overthinking- supermarket shelves stacking is something we have both perfected over the years.
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.
I get it. It’s cold outside. Valentine’s day is near. Fifty Shades Darker is coming out soon and the new trailer is giving people all sort -erotic- ideas . I get it. And I also get that I’m single, going through a rough patch and might feel a little bit envious.
But as much as I get all of that and applaud love and sex and the right to be free to express love in any way one wants, I had to mute my Skype call twice so my friend wouldn’t hear the loud moans and pants. I had to go to bed feeling like I was back in college hearing the moaning and screaming. On my first try with DnD last night, I had to try, for some reason, to cover those moans and screams with an awkward cough as I said goodbyes to my friends. No. My brother’s friends to be exact.
I get it. Sex is fun. Sex is relaxing. Everyone should ‘get laid’ every once in a while but everyone else shouldn’t hear it. Literally.
Please and thank you.
Recently I’ve been thinking of going back to my hometown. The day I left, I promised never to go back again, no matter what happened. I hate that place. Well…I did hate it while growing up. I always felt under the spotlight and who I was, was never good enough. I was always too much or too less. Too quiet. Too weird. Too skinny. Too socially awkward. Too much of a loner.
So when I finally moved out, I thought I’ll finally be somewhere where nobody knows me and be who I really am. Too bad at that point I had no idea who I was. I’m still trying to figure myself out after years of being ‘who I was supposed to be’. New countries, new cities help a little but when things are about you, it’s you who need to figure things out. Not new cities.
Living in a society that doesn’t let you be who you are or judges you for what you do or like is something every single person on planet Earth has to deal with. Some more often than others.
Considering we cannot live without societies because humans are per se loners in nature- we need to be part of something, even people that like me like to spent time alone, we need to adapt to what is considered to be ‘normal’ or ‘acceptable.’