It does not look like the sun will shine today. It does not help to receive the new season with smile. March is always treacherous and it isn't over yet.
I've done my laundry and thoughts are still twirling in my mind about a thought I started yesterday, but got interrupted by a phone call.
I was rereading a book by Theodor Storm, a German writer. It was the only book I brought with me to Canada. It had the story "Immensee" ( Lake name in Germany) in it. I could not remember why I did chose this book, so I have to read it again to remember what tied me to save it. It does feel strange - the souvenirs we keep for years and most of the time don't even remember where we placed them.
I do have another miniature book I brought in a coat pocket with me when I left Latvia. It is written by Zenta Maurins - a writer who had to spend her whole life, since the age of 5 in wheelchair do to polio. Her book is called " Neaizsutita vestule" (English "Not mailed letter"). It does make me feel hanging somewhere in between. I wish I had some friend who could read these books (mind you they are in German and Latvian) and sort of remember the feelings they created in me then to treasure them till now. I don't know if I will get peace or feel more lonely after I try to remember what touched me then to save thees particular books for so long...
I don't even understand what made me go and look at those books yesterday? What am I missing to bring it up ? An other instance of making an issue or imaginative story? What has touched my mind or soul? Is there an answer?
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