building walls

M said her goodbyes there, under the eastern sky in a night that was cold and so black it drowned out the stars. there was just the coldness and the darkness and the old, crumbling face of the city around them, witnessing something completely insignificant to it. and in all honesty, why would the city have cared? why should it have? the black eyes of the buildings hovering above her and K had seen wars, after all,  had seen the rise and the fall of an empire; the same facades that were now surrounding them had witnessed how people had been dragged from their homes to a place they would never return and then silently watched how time had eaten away the blood stains on the pavement under M and K's feet.

so the city most certainly didn't care; but M did, more than she had expected to, and she hoped K cared as well. 

it had been her own decision to leave the city, for good this time,  and K had supported her choice all the way. but now, as the moment of the inevitable and most likely permanent departure was approaching with a nauseating speed, she saw how her own uncertainty over the rightness of her decision flickered in K's eyes as well. it was odd, really, how seeing her own fear in the eyes of another brought back the memory of everything that had brought them into this point. 

how, at first, K had been just another stranger M came across every now and then due to the same social circles they shared; and how, slowly, they had got into chatting, and spending time together and making each other laugh with the most unexpected and often quite incomprehensible jokes. how they had spent more and more time together, drinking the night away in the shabby bars of the city or taking walks by the water that was as black and deep as the night was now, or drinking tea in the messy kitchen of M's apartment long after her flatmates had gone to sleep. M didn't know exactly when it had happened, or how, but suddenly K had turned into the person she called first; the person who was a part of her every single day, of her whole existence, in a way so natural that she never gave it a second thought. 

until now, of course. because of course she loved K, and of course she had been aware of it, but until now love had been something you said without thinking about it too much, without it meaning much anything at all. until now when it wasn't anymore, when it suddenly meant absolutely everything, and M couldn't for the life of her understand how it was even possible she hadn't figured this out before. because she did love K, really love, or at least could have loved; but now it was too late for what-ifs because the plane was leaving and the ocean between now and tomorrow was wider than their promises to keep in touch.

and maybe it was the tightness of K's embrace around her, or maybe it was the coldness of the night, or the lack of stars in the black sky or even the mute walls around them. maybe it was the rush of some kind of desperation that surged from somewhere beyond reason, or the fact' that tomorrow there was no M and K any more, who knows - it could have been any of those things, or all of them, or something else entirely. M didn't know, but whatever it was it was enough to make her press her lips on K's, strong and long enough to make a difference but still just short enough for M not to get lost in the taste of cheap wine and tobacco and salt that was K. 

it could have meant nothing; and it could have meant everything.

but it made no difference any more, and it didn't matter; and the walls of the city ate the two inside themselves, consumed the utter insignificance that was M and K and the unimportance of everything they might have or might have not been. the city took all this and melted it into the chipped concrete, rusty iron and shattered window panes, cast the laughter and tears and possibility of a broken hearts into the blind buildings together with everything that had happened and everything that would happen. because that is what cities are made of, memories; that is the foundation as well as the mortar that keeps the bricks together. without memories there is no city, it does not exist; and even if it does not care, it still needs each and every one. 

and if you look around, careful enough, with an attentive eye and an open mind, maybe you will see M and K - or maybe you will see something else. but rest assured it is all there, all the time, and you are too; the city does remember even when we forget.

bonjour

after about three weeks in paris - of which admittedly i spent almost a week in prague - i cannot yet say that i have completely acclimated myself in here. some things i am getting used to, but generally speaking everything still feels rather new and i myself feel slightly, if not exactly out of place, at least a bit detached. this is not to say that i don't like it here; it's just the phase of getting accustomed into something you haven't really come across before. it's a bit like starting a new job or changing flats or something alike; in the beginning you are very aware of yourself and your surroundings, but eventually you find yourself being familiar and that certain edge brought about everything being a bit strange is gone.

so what have i learnt about paris during this still relatively short period of time? the first thing that springs to mind is the huge size of it. of course i knew this before, having visited a few times, but still it strikes me as one of the main features. another thing that is large, at least in number, is the amount of tourists - i walked through the louvre and notre dame areas the other day and was indeed reminded of the fact that paris is one of the most visited cities in the world. besides tourists, a thing of excess is cars - the traffic is simply mad (on the other hand, catching the metro during rush hour is not a decision one should make). it also goes without saying that the architecture of the city is quite amazing, and i quite like the worn-out feel many areas have; and i like the fact that there are so many different types of neighbourhoods.

so paris is grandiose in many ways; but then there are the small things, the things i reckon eventually be turn out to be the most important ones. there is the canal that runs next to where i live, and the sunrise that makes everything magical when i run alongside it in the mornings. there's the brilliant system of city bikes that gives one such freedom of movement, and allows for seeing a lot more than you would were you riding in the metro train. there are the parks, and the picturesque small streets, and  the continuous flow of interesting views and smells and noises and what not. and above all there is life, everywhere and all the time; people coming and going, cars honking, children running, music playing, crazy people yelling at pigeons, anything you can imagine and more.

and it can be that there will come a time when all this gets exhausting; but right now i'm very much enjoying it. so hello paris, it's nice to meet you, and i do hope this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

later on

later on always seemed like such a good place to be. like the woman in that article D had read not long ago, the one that discussed being in a relationship with someone with a narcissistic personality disorder. how - according to the woman in question - later on she saw how damaging the whole situation had been. and that later on it was easy for her to say she was better off without him.

or how about that man who told in a low-budget lifestyle tv show how difficult it had been to walk out on his life, the family and the car and the golden retriever, the whole setting he had spent his whole adult life building. but how later on he had realized that it was the exact right thing to do, that from the blissful viewpoint of later on it all made sense. later on, it seemed to D, was where one was most poignant and accurate in their knowledge; later on, there was no what ifs or how abouts or any of that nonsense that kept her awake at night.

later on you always knew; there were no questions whether you were wasting your time doing something you shouldn't be doing just because you were afraid to break the pattern. there were no doomed relationships kept alive only through the daily cpr of swallowed pride and given-up needs, sugar coated with the false hope that some day things would magically work again. later on everything was clear, and you were able to look at yourself and your own actions with a sense of pride. you may have made mistakes, sure, and some of the decisions you made along the line were frankly quite bad, but later on as all of them were wrapped into one, they were all pieces of a puzzle - one you had solved. once you arrived to later on you were finally allowed to take a step back and look at the whole, and all of it made perfect sense.

the only problem with later on was, and it was a substantial one, that D had no idea how to get there. she read the stories, devoured them even, and watched the tv shows until her eyes went dry in her quest of trying to find out the exact moment when - and how - the person had made that final step, the defining decision that would start the process of pushing them into the peaceful state of later on. how could you be sure? how did you know? everybody has their limits; how to tell if you have reached yours?

she couldn't find the answer to this. so, D reasoned, it must be some kind of divine intervention, a veil of certainty that would suddenly descend upon her so that she could say, without a doubt - i have had enough. this is my limit beyond which i won't go. i have given enough.

and with that she would be pushed into the process, and eventually she would be able to say something along the lines "later on i realized that i had been sad for a long time." or "later on it dawned on me that i had tried to achieve something i didn't even want." but for now she had to wait, and endure, because she was not sure. 

and maybe later on she would see that she took way too long to make her decision; but it would still all make sense, it would all be a part of the grand scheme of things, once the later on would finally arrive. things can't happen before they do; and later on, D would understand this as well.

this and that

there's this

and then there is this

and honestly it is very hard to say which i enjoy more. 

good thing i don't have to choose. 

should have known better

of course, by now, she should have known better.

she should have known better not to be fooled into thinking that things can be simple, that there could be a time when reality wouldn't step in and walk all over your foolish dreams. she should have known, by now, that words born from the dark hours of the night don't carry the same weight in the light of day. that in fact they vanish like the night does, only the difference is that they don't return once the day is over. she should have known that if something seems too good to be true it most likely is exactly that; and she definitely should have known better than to fall for L.

it's not that she is old, but she is older, well older than L anyway; and she's been around enough to witness both first and second hand that sometimes young people do silly things. like for example kiss their best friends just because they can - and then follow that same friend home and cross borders that probably shouldn't be crossed, not with you best friend anyway. but she should have known this, because she was once young too, and young people are like that; they are beautiful and reckless and they don't yet understand what it means to play with someone's heart. it is all a game to them still, an exciting one at that; but the thing is, and she really should have known this by now, that when they are as amazing and gorgeous as L is, well, that makes the game a bit unfair to everyone else involved.

and she really, really should have known this. and in all honesty she probably did; it's just that she chose to forget.

instead she welcomed L's lips on her own, her thin fingers tangled in her hair; didn't push her away and laugh it off when it still was to be considered a possibility. she didn't say no when L climbed in her lap in the taxi and didn't ask her to leave her bed when she unassumingly followed her into it.

because of course she wanted L there; even if she knew what it meant.

and now, as the first rays of the sun are sneaking into the room from the creak between the curtains and her head is pounding even though she lies completely still in the bed that still smells like L, alone now -  she knows very well that things will never be the same between them, ever again. she knew that when she lay still and pretended to be asleep as L got up and tiptoed out of the room, out of the flat, god knows if out of her life. and with every second that passes and pushes last night further from her, she also knows that what ever she thought it to be worth to give in to her unrequited feelings for L was not, in fact, that. 

and this is what she should have known. 

42,195

so yesterday was the big day and i ran the paris marathon together with around 40 000 other runners. out of the now eight marathons i have participated in this one was probably the most enjoyable, as well as memorable; it really is quite something to start a race in a huge crowd covering the majority of champs-elysees, followed by a route travelling alongside some of the best known landmarks in whole europe, if not the world. 

the only downside was the huge amount of runners (for example it took me almost half an hour from the official start time to actually cross the start line; and behind me there were still over one third of the runners waiting for their turn) which resulted in the unfortunate fact that big parts of the run were a bit overcrowded. a lot of time you weren't able to pass slower runners, which was every now and then a bit frustrating; but then again, you don't participate in an event of this scale and expect to break your personal best. the thing to do, really, is just to enjoy the amazing atmosphere and the beautiful city around you; and this is what i did. 

all in all i enjoyed the whole thing thoroughly, and am very happy with both the ease of the run and my result of 3 hours and 43 minutes. i would absolutely recommend running the paris marathon to anyone considering it; the event is well organized, the route easy with little elevations as well as extremely beautiful and, what is maybe just my personal preference, ran in one stretch instead of running the practically same 21 kilometre lap twice, as it often happens. 

now it is time to take it easy a few days; a well-deserved rest, i think.

home

the US experience came to an end a few days ago and i flew back to this side of the ocean. it is nice to be back in europe i must say, and even nicer is that coming back didn't mean going back to finland but instead moving to paris. it is slightly more cold than i would have preferred or even expected it to be, but strangely enough this doesn't vex me tremendously; i managed to skip the worst of finland, after all, and i would think spring is right around the corner anyway, so a week or two of winter jacket doesn't seem like a huge compromise to make.

or maybe i am forgiving towards the weather because there is this sense of newness in everything. you know the feeling when you are starting a new job, or changing flats, or even a new pair of shoes - you are not used to it, and you pay more attention. you might not be entirely comfortable, but not in a negative way; just the feeling of something having changed, and you adjusting to that change. i am obviously in that phase right now, experiencing a city i have visited a few times from a completely new point of view. at the moment going to a supermarket is an adventure, and i am full of positive intentions, very much like you would be in the beginning of a semester or something of the like - that this time around i will be awesome, will do all these things that one ought to, won't waste time and so on - and of course eventually i will find myself doing exactly that, and i won't always put my laundry in the basket right away or learn a phrase of french every day. 

but it's all right i think, because it always goes like that - once you get familiar with things they lose that edge they have when you first get in contact with them, and that is only natural. what matters is what comes after that; are you still happy with the choice you have made once the sense of new wears out, are you comfortable in your familiarity or does it feel boring. do the negatives outweigh the positives, or do you find yourself congratulating yourself over the situation you managed somehow to squeeze yourself in? 

this all of course remains to be seen. right now i am very happy to be here, and i truly intend to make the best out of it; this is paris, after all, and it's the place that goes by the definition of home from now on.