The Flight

Words eluded her. She had this urge to write, to express herself, but she could find no words. She had so much to say. If only...

In her daydreams she would conjure up all kinds of stories. She would transform her otherwise boring life into a wonderful adventure. She would win the heart of her secret love by means of her rhetoric. She would have the answers to every possible scenario. The dialogues in her head were honed to perfection. There was nothing she couldn't achieve. If only...

She was staring at a blank sheet of paper again, her pen poised in her right hand, her mind empty. Nothing. No words. Not even images. She sighed and put the pen aside. There's no use. She'll never be a writer. Then she absent-mindedly grabbed the paper and started folding it. The next thing she knew she was holding a paper airplane in her hands. Had she made this? Would it fly? She had to try it, but where?

She ran out of the flat towards the river, the paper plane firmly in her hand. She was breathing heavily when she reached the bridge. She knew she would not be able to retrieve the plane once she released it. But she wanted to do it, she had to let go. The bridge arched high above a canyon, connecting the residential area where she came from with the old medieval kernel of the town. She made sure she was above the deepest point of the canyon, then leaned over the fence and with a gentle flick of her wrist released her little treasure.

The plane took flight but after a few metres faltered and plummeted towards the bottom of the canyon. She watched it falling, anxiety gripping at her heart. She suddenly realised she had leaned too far over the fence and was beginning to lose balance. But then the plane slowly levelled off and started drifting gently on an updraft. She knew everything would be fine.

More Market

Ljubljana Market from the other side. The place is much more vibrant on working days (the market is only closed on Sundays). To the right, outside the shot, are the open stalls, and in the distance, at the end of the colonnade, a pair of dragons guard the right bank entrance to the Dragon Bridge.

It can be seen from the pic that the poplars are still lush and green while the chestnuts have already started shedding their leaves. For some reason chestnuts are always the first to do so, thus announcing that the end of summer is not very far away. I don't know why I seem to feel these subtle changes stronger with every passing year. Perhaps that's the nature's way of telling me the summer of my life is drawing to an end...

The Ljubljana Market

This is the waterside view of Ljubljana Market as seen from the Dragon Bridge towards the Triple Bridge (Tromostovje). It is a beautiful piece of architecture designed by Jože Plečnik, the architect whose work can be seen in Vienna, Prague, Ljubljana and many other places all over Slovenia and beyond (my only reader will know what I mean if I say Plečnik is sort of a Slovenian version of Charles Rennie Mackintosh).

The Market is a good place to visit not only for its architecture (which the locals hardly notice) but also because one can almost always get fresh fruit and veggies in the open stalls as well as meat, fish, dairy products, pastry, herbs, spices, nuts, honey and other bee products and many other things, including souvenirs and lots of cheap tat in the colonnades.

I visit the Market almost every Saturday. I quite enjoy browsing through various kinds of fruits and greenery throughout the place but usually buy goods from the few vendors I know and trust.

Colour And The Lack Of It

The beginning of August is the time of year when one begins to feel change. Slowly but surely the days are getting shorter, mornings cooler, birds are getting ready for - not quite yet but soon, too soon - the autumn migration, and there's this vague indefinable feeling of... loss?

Sometimes the loss is more tangible and/or terminal: end of a relationship, death of an acquaintance...

And yet, some colour can almost always be found, sometimes in the most unlikely places, even in the dreariest of days. Whoever put those chairs in the fountain to brighten the grey Friday morning deserves at least a mention in a blog.

The Power of Advertising

I misspelled a word recently. No big deal really, happens all the time. But this particular case made me think about something else.

There is a bank in Slovenia belonging to the Hypo Alpe Adria Group. The bank has adopted a hippopotamus as their symbol and, of course, uses it in advertising.

Well, I rarely watch TV and refuse to watch commercials at all. I don't read advertisements in papers. And yet, the image of the river horse somehow connected in my mind to the name of the bank. So writing 'hyppo' instead of 'hippo' came quite naturally to me.

They say you need to see a specific piece of information at least six times before you are able to recognise it. I suppose I must have seen that ad often enough to have it etched in my memory. Which makes me wonder how much more rubbish is stuffed in my brain taking place of more useful information. Damn the power of advertising!

Rendezvous

Jon was early as usual at the café. He chose an empty table from which he had a good view of the street and everyone passing by. He wanted to see his date when she arrived.

As he sat there, sipping a latte and fiddling about his brand new mobile phone while scanning the street, he wondered what she would look like. She would be wearing a red top and white linen trousers, that much he knew. Would she arrive on time?

At the exact time of their appointment his phone rang.

"Apollo?" he heard on the other side. "It's me, Aphrodite. Are you there yet?"

"Yes, I'm here, waiting. My table is under the awning, the first one up the street, you can't miss it."

"Good. I'll be with you in five minutes."

So this is it. He was looking forward to finally meeting this mysterious woman. He still loved Irene but after almost eleven years of marriage something didn't feel quite right any more. Ennui? His wife would spend more and more time in her study, claiming she had work to do. So, as a consequence, he, too, spent more time at his computer. He discovered an internet forum which covered many of his interests and to his astonishment soon found himself participating. One member in particular intrigued him. She was writing under the monicker Aphrodite and they seemed to have much in common. He wasn't sure who was the first to suggest a rendezvous but was all for it once the opportunity arose.

"Apollo?"

A soft voice woke him from his reveries. He stood up, taking off his sunglasses.

"Aphro..."

"YOU?!" two voices shouted at the same time.

There they stood, staring at each other, husband and wife.

A little experiment...

Oh well... alone in an elevator with just enough time for a bit of fooling around...