music by my bedside.

Moments before I was to board the cruise ship leaving the port from Turkey back to Greece, I found my way into a little music/book shop. Weeks prior my wallet had been stolen leaving me with limited cash. Wandering the rows, I was drawn to the image and title of this book. It was not only reading the back of the page but the opening lines of this book that I knew I must by it. For going lunch for a few days to buy this book served a good choice.. before the ship even left the port that night, I dove into this beautiful book in which I found such a reflection of myself..

Below is a few pieces from within..

I cannot sleep without music by my bedside. Since I was a kid. An old love song always plays on that small music box, carrying me to the unforgettable images of days long gone. How strange is human memory! Without warning, image come alive, their colors become manifest, pulling you into the realms of the past as if you stranded in a broken time machine. The images and their dates jumble together. You cannot tell which scent pairs with which memory. Perhaps, instinctively, you know which of them is precious, and sometimes, as you are twisted around in the intricate mechanism of recollection, the images flow by, gliding over windowpanes of a racing train. Suddenly, a single memory glitters, catching your eye for a moment and at that very moment, you yearn, more than you have ever yearned for anything, to go back to that image, to that one and only feeling that has remained unnoticed. Since my childhood, I have always wondered about the recording mechanism of the human mind. Images, colors, faces, scenery, photographs, houses, roads, clothes, scents, smells, sounds and feelings are all registered in my memory with unfathomable speed. So the next time you chance upon something or someone- a spitting image- you remember..

Time after time, I stroll through the sophisticated, every growing, gargantuan archives of my mind and lose myself in a myriad of twirling concentric circles. Wishing to catch and recall a memory, an emotion, or a moment gone by, I find myself engulfed in an utterly different time and place. I wonder how I happened to find myself by the seaside, inhaling the scents of an unexpected spring just as I was listening to the half destroyed records of a conversation that took place in the rooms of my childhood.

Nowadays, space travel is possible. However, setting off on a journey in time is only possible if our destination is the unknown cities of our memory, traveling through our inner selves.

If I had been told that I cold stop at a certain moment in my life and stay there forever, I would have chosen one of two moments. The first is when I was rocking in the swing hanging from the branches of a tree in the backyard of my childhood. The other is the day I first kissed the man I loved more than anyone in my whole life.. many strived to write the common language of falling in love. In fact, it is quite simple: you are in live if you feel as if you’re rocking on a swing when you kiss the one man you loved more than anyone..