If all questions find their answers …

“We are earnest to explore and learn all things, but we require that all things be mysterious and unexplorable …”

― Henry David Thoreau

* * * * *

The minute he told me he loves girls with short skirts, I knew, no matter how sweet my face is or how smart I am, he will never see me the way I want him to. Not that I can’t wear a short skirt, I probably can, but I think long skirts are much more alluring. Call me old-fashioned, but a woman doesn’t need to have all her skin out to look appealing. The shape of the body wrapped in a long, white summer dress, brushing the molecules of the sand under the sun and the reflections of palm trees in the sea, making a man wondering, somehow, makes much more sense to me.

Nevertheless, I had my moment of doubt and anxiety after the discovery, but I am still talking to him. Maybe because he challenges my mind in a way no one had for a long time; maybe because the smile on his face is like a soothing touch over my broken sparkles or maybe, I simply am not ready to let go of the muse I found in him.

He doesn’t say much, but then no real man usually does, just enough to answer my questions and to satisfy to a certain level my thirst; but he always leaves a door open for another question, for another message, for another conversation and this is enough to know he likes talking to me. I haven’t figured out why yet, but I think I don’t want to. All want is to know him better. Questions are bruising the surface on my lips and my fingertips are dying to flood the screen with words and get rid off of all the thoughts inside my confused head.

I want to know about his dreams and the colors of his heart, what makes him happy, angry, sad, blind with love; does he think of the moonlight, how he finds the words for his stories? I want to see him walking, talking to other people, other women, sleeping, having a shower or just a coffee in the morning before he drives to work. I want to ask him a million questions and I want him to ask me a million questions back … but I’m afraid that I will scare him if he finds how much I want. Or worse, he will give me what I want, he will flood back the screen with answers and will solve all the little mysteries occupying my brain right now.

And what if all questions find their answers, what if I end up alone, again, without a daydream to provoke my senses and keep me breathing? What if, with every answer, I see how ordinary a human he is and there is nothing sparkling in his short e-mails, nothing so sweet and dramatic in two people sharing the same sky across the oceans, through the plasma world of bits and bytes?

The Killers are singing their story about runaways, innocent souls catching the last glimpse of the summer wind and I am re-reading his last message, trying to find a meaning between the lines that doesn’t exist. And I know, I won’t ask him a question today, I won’t reveal how weak my heart is, not today! Today will forever remain mysterious and unexplainable, no question will find its answer, no illusion will be added to the pile of broken sparkles…


Image by RedSheep Photography


© 2012  Broken Sparkles


Unconscious letters


It all started few months ago, when summer boy and I went to a bookstore called “Unconscious letters”- “Aναίσθητα γράμματα”. I found the name really funny and unexplainable. How come letters can be unconscious? In a place where the muses have blessed the pages of so many books it is impossible anyone to be unconscious and most of all the letters. Seeing the meaning even from the angle of poetry, the name still seems somehow strange to me. We had a long conversation back then, lots of drinks over theories and facts, but we never reached agreement about the unconsciousness.

I remember him telling me with the most sunny smile on his face that he will prove me wrong and I didn’t even took him seriously. Well, that was some time ago and I honestly never recalled the conversation again, until the other day when he left for another educational exchange program in Finland. Is not the first time he goes away so I’m used to his absence and his sudden appearances back in moments when I least expect him. He says he will be back in November, but I know soon before November I’ll have him knocking on my door at 3.am. asking for pancakes. But that’s not the point here …

At the airport before we said good bye he gave me a CD, I thought that it was some music I told him I liked and I asked him to download for me, so I left the CD in my bag and even forgot about it until the next day. I wish I could somehow show you what’s on the CD, but first, the writing is in Greek and second, there was a note saying “Only for your eyes” and I can’t ignore the bright red, capital letters, but I can talk about the consequences of seeing it.

Summer boy made nearly 2,5 hours long, slideshow, love story, using mostly fragments of famous books and movies, a little of his own writing, pictures and youtube videos to back up the story. As soon as I saw the title “Unconscious letters” I couldn’t help it but think, summer boy does keep his promises. The name of the main character is Brian, I love that name and he knows it very well, so just with the name, the hero won my sympathy. The story is a story that could happen to any of us, we all fall in love and experience different situations. What I loved the most was the way he presented Brian.

I watched him, I read about him, I saw him talking, arguing, smiling, being angry, making love, hiding his pride … I saw him turn into a part of my heart, fictitious character that made me fall in love with the idea of someone like him. The story doesn’t have a happy end, Brian ends up alone, probably regretting his decisions and actions for being late to accept and reveal he can actually care about another person. The effect of seeing the CD resembles fireworks, a ticker bundled in ecstasy, bubbling blood out of the arteries, steam back in the veins. I really liked the hero, with all his good and bad sides, that’s probably because it was made to get to me from someone that knows me pretty well.

After the end lines, there was one last picture to finish the slideshow with the image of an actor I like very much and the words:” Now try and write a poem about this Brian guy and tell me how conscious your letters and words are!”. And I’ve been trying for the last 4 days to write a poem about Brian. Divine is the expression for a worship coming from the heart, my heart. But why does it sound so plain, so hollow when I try to apply divine to Brian’s charm? Why I have so much to tell about him and yet I can’t find the right words? How do you find the right muse to justify what you saw, felt and wanted to be yours, instead of being part of some story? How do you turn into a poem love beyond the love?

I have so much to say and yet nothing comes in the form of poetry, so I think I’ll stick to stories for the next few days, weeks, until I get rid off Brian’s influence … And yes, I admit, I was wrong! Letters can be unconscious!


“Brian Kinney” by RandyStoleMyKeys on deviantart.com


© 2011  Broken Sparkles


Sofia is the capital of my country Bulgaria and it’s the largest city there. Lots of history is behind the name of the town starting with the Celtic tribe Serdi, then ruled by Philip of Macedon and his son Alexander the Great, conquered by the Romans, which made the city one of the first where Christianity was officially recognized as a religion. After that became part of the first Bulgarian Empire, but number of unsuccessful sieges turned Sofia into Byzantine territory, to be seized by the Ottoman Empire later on, until the Russians freed us  … Wars, innocent lives lost, invasions, terror … all of them have marked the streets of Sofia and the thoughts of the citizens, generation after generation the memories of the difficult times probably have faded away, but there are still the stories read in school to remind us of what our nation have been through!

Today Sofia is a modern town, or at least trying to be modern enough and people living there are trying to keep up with this modern style of life. I personally don’t like Sofia as a town very much, every time I go there I feel inside my stomach a nervous ball jumping up and down, I feel something in the air is making me rather uncomfortable. But the last time I was in Bulgaria and I spent a day in Sofia, I discovered a new place called lake Ariana. Right in the middle of the town, a little lake surrounded with trees and greenery! Almost perfection!

I don’t know why, how come I liked it this time? Walking around and taking deep breaths to inhale the atmosphere, I still wonder why !?! Was it the company of my friend I had coffee with? Was it the fact that everyone was at work and there were no grumpy and unhappy people to look at us? Was it the autumn weather a bit chilly for me, with the sun shining in cold colors and hiding the imperfectness of the gray roads and buildings? I don’t know what was it, but I like to share with you the beauty of this place in a picture!

“Lake Ariana” by Blaga Todorova


© 2010  Broken Sparkles