"and the opportunities....they-re not going anywhere either, what`s important is to know what you want and what to 'ask' and what to 'take' from life
i`m getting all philosophical and shit, i hate that" (D. Mihaila)
The day I found out that gay means, well, gay, as in: happy, jolly, light, something changed.
Maybe one of the reasons why gay people are still hated in many heads is, that it's so fucking annoying when somebody is overtly gay.
There is something intrinsically intriguing when we encounter the darkness. The smell of death, so seductive. The immense power of an accident, of torn bodies and souls and tormented minds and we cannot stop staring.
I remember this girl, she had only one leg and proudly walked the halls of our school on her crutches. She had cancer and soon after died. I couldn't stop staring. I was a little girl and I couldn't divert my eyes. It was dreadful and amazing. It had it's very own glory, something descending from far above, something so more important and deep than anything else in my little life.
It is very clear, that tragedy is very very intriguing. It absolutely is. Or at least comedy in tragedy, you know, beginning with the old Greek stuff.
But then, there are the moments on the top of a mountain or a tree...The sleepy scents of a sunny hot dusty Italian afternoon or the sounds of joyful music around the campfire late at night, when the fire is crackling and my friends sleeping, like angels, so beautiful.
There was a bumblebee who showed me the way and there was a swallow right in front of me, battling the storm, looking into my eyes and a Russian family who welcomed me with empty hands but open arms.
And that's when I wonder, when it happened, that heaven became the more boring choice. Because, it probably isn't that bad alltogether after all....
Sometimes, I really just want to be a lame gay duck
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