svetasanna

My life is a dream. But actually, it doesn't mean overwhelming happiness or lots of money or beauty, health and stuff. This dream is an unpoetic, blurred vision of life's imperfection.

You just fall in love with colors, sounds, situations, languages, people.. You fall into them, take a piece of their essence, then rise to the surface again and reflect them. They now are part of you.

And the one thing that makes difference between you, philosophically dissolved being, and a tree nearby your house, is that you have your own experience, passions, preferences, unique voice, eyes and movements - even if you haven't asked for that. What a warm feeling grows inside of me when we watch "the Big Bang Theory" and i hear myself saying "why doesn't Penny stay with Leonard? He's sooo cute!" like a regular girl with girls-stamps, girls-thinking, you know.. I behave sincerely and socially correct. Great!

Though, the pleasure of falling into dreams is much bigger by me. I spend lots of time just feeling preferable sides of life. It calms me down.

Now, for instance, it's the second book about Frank Lehmann