- Nov 29, 2024
Life is a poetic thing. And this poem can be very different, take on all sorts of guises, unveil various emotions. Sometimes it is so convincing that you forget that it is a poem. But there are also moments when it encourages you to look a little from the outside and see, finally see, the charming weaves that it is saturated with.
A small book, "Drops". A book that is basically just a collection of micro-poems, which in their turn were originally published on Instagram, being written in those very peculiar covid times when incredible ideas were born.
This book is bought by one good man, the story of getting acquainted with whom is a separate work of divine art. One day the home of this good man is visited by a friend of his daughter. And there she learns about the book. Something among these lines resonates in her. And the book becomes a gift for her.
And the story doesn't end there. The good man learns from his daughter's friend that she likes the works of one Italian writer. And after a while, at a personal meeting, the good man presents me with a book by this writer.
The book, magical, cinematic. The book that has its own unique world. Something that hasn't been seen in a long time. And - most amazing of all - the book that was meant to be read right now. Exactly in the present moment. To show how marvellously similar the main foundation and some particular moments in it turn out to be to those that are being born (and have already been born) in my new story, which is being created these days. To show that it's all coincidental and not coincidental.
