Roots

Sources of Joy – Day 34

Yesterday, I won a prize. I shall receive a book in the post. What makes it special is that it is a novel translated from French by a recently-made Facebook friend. The idea of reading it on my forthcoming train trip to Porto appeals.

Today I had a lovely long chat on the telephone with a friend from the old country. By the old country, I mean Zimbabwe. Although different on so many levels, we share similar roots, and our general outlook, if not the same, is understood by the other.  This is a rare pleasure for those of us who live in a foreign land. Such kinship makes us feel whole again. She phoned me to cheer me up, and time well spent it was, for that it did.

I bought liquid soap yesterday chiefly because it is called “black orchid, smells sweet, and I needed soap. The deal maker was that it is a shade of purple, my favourite colour.

I am not fond of Bougainvillea particularly, but the colour of this one I see every day redeems it somewhat.

Some things look lovely when you block out what surrounds them.
Some things look lovely when you block out what surrounds them.

Sometimes, sources of joy are well-hidden. Either that, or the eyes are not willing to see.
I am in a state of flux. Calm does not come – or stay easily – in our household of fragmented conversations at the moment.  I trust it will settle soon. In the meantime, I took comfort at the fortuitousness of a Saturday without particular commitment, and mused about how vacuous time can seem when faced with the enormous weight of all the things which could fill it.

I shall be grateful for the oblivion of sleep tonight.

Allison

 

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