The morning sun shines through my window. I can see how it lits the pearly white of the woodwork of the house opposite of the one I live in. It’s cold in my room. The heater was turned down last night and it usually only takes a few hours for my room to become freezing cold. My windows are single pane, the house is quite high and I live just under the the flat roof on the top floor. So the nightly cold easily takes hold of my little hideout. My hideout is made just right for me. It’s small and exists of a square room and a small annex, the latter being used for storage, drying laundry and the cat bin. The room itself is spacious enough to live in but to small to stack my things in a nice manner which results in a somewhat cluttered look. I somehow, being quite chaotic, haven’t found the way or the discipline to keep it tidy. So there’s things lying around everywhere. My equipment for filming, photographing and writing. My artwork and my books, a chaise longue in bright red, a bed that’s white and too empty with only me in it. The desk is small and occupied by a hundred years old typewriter and little bottles and boxes because I like little bottles and boxes.
There are musical instruments but I rarely play on them. I seem not to have the time to learn playing one properly. An electric bass and a collection of percussion instruments and drums. And on the wall opposite of my bed is a huge wall painting on cotton by Klimt: The kiss. In the not so far corner is a heater. It works on gas and above it is a tiny chimney with a big golden mirror and my temple. Not that I am overly religious but I do like to medidate and my temple has a role in that. Shiva is the God who’s most impressively positioned in the middle of the chimney, dancing as ever in a tempting pose. Next to Shiva are Parvaati on the one side and Aradanashvara on the other side. The three of them being my inspiration with a mix of feminine looks and male powers. Of course there’s incense. I like the smell of good incense. And some Bhuddist things like a prayer wheel and a shell. To remind me of the culure that impressed me and to remind me that there’s more in this world than this European non-religious and non-spiritual world.
I don’t like the cold. Especially not when I am alone. Today at least there’s a sun shining so I won’t get depressed but the days when even that light is gone push me down. I miss my love, her presence and smile. Her laughter and cheerfulness. I guess that’s what it means to live with a long distance love. I long for another chaotic phone conversation in which we seem unable to hang up on each other but I have to take care not to use the phone too much, it’s costly calling and crossing 10.000 km’s.
So, I get up and make breakfast. Fried rice with tea because I still have some rice left from a previous meal and I notice I’m out of milk. Today I will do some shopping and when I get dressed I realize my clothes are dark, mostly black. It looks good on me but somehow I long for the bright colors I wear when in Nepal. I’d rather wear orange or red but these colors are absent in my wardrobe while the kurta’s I have are to chilly to wear on a day like this. Somehow it took just a week to be dragged back into the greyness of life here. My mind still wonders to the rice fields around the little farm with the fields filled with yellow mustarde plants, the mountains in the distance in a light blue haze and the sounds of birds everywhere. There are no birds here and mustarde comes in small pots. My body is in Patan holding the one I love and my eyes scan the old carvings of the temples at Durbar square. My skin thinks it feels the sun touching it and keeping me warm and when I close my eyes I can still hear the sounds in the streets of the little town and smell the smell of freshly prepared food everywhere. I even hear the bells of the mandir, I think. But it’s becoming like a dream as if it is not real.
And I know I am lost. Unable to stay here, unable to go there. At least for now because I have to finish my film first. But then I will return and see her again. Will it be forever then?
Alice © 2012