Bona Fide Love Bona Fide Love Bona Fide Love Bona Fide Love
This sunny Sunday afternoon I took the S7 back to Berne from a lovely brunch we had been invited to. It had been a morning full of good humour, great coffee and delicious Zopf-bread flavoured with the genuine caring of the hosting couple – for us and for each other. Watching them two guys occasionally grasping hands, leaning on each others shoulders and making compliments was like watching love live and celebrated in this house and it made me feel appreciated, too.
My little pink-capped friend of the age of three and a half was skipping on my right hand now. Just a quarter of an hour before I had played the dirty card on her promising an ice-cream in town. She wasn’t bad at the game, either, and earned a big chocolate one by loudly declearing I ha di ganz fescht gärn! into the full afternoon train. All heads turned and she quietly climbed on my lap.
I sometimes feel that what is generally missing in the streets of this country is the love you can see and hear. Hardly anyone is kissing in the middle of the streets, and if so, earning the looks of don’t-you-have-a-home… Its not that I necessarily need to witness burning passion in a pizzeria but somehow it seems to stamp love with an „Attention! Heavy!“ seal. I believe love is very fragile, instead, and deserves some space, significance and admiration.
I think in many ways love gets so organised by milestones of days it is living – the dinner menus, the weekly shoppings and holiday plans – and the milestones its supposed to be passing – the getting to know you, the getting together with you, the getting used to you and the that’s why staying together with you – that loving you does not get celebrated at all. The love that makes you giggle on the phone in a meeting, wear perfect make-up every day, put up with jokes from friends and family and fall asleep smiling every time careless if he is next to you or not and careless how many days, weeks or decades you have only had him next to you. Also the same love that makes you make decisions you have never made, face fears you have never acknowledged and eventually, cry madly in case it doesn’t work out after all…
But don’t throw sour looks on it, even if its cried out too loud in a crowded train, or if it happens right in front of your eyes and in front of the vegetable-stand. Its simply a little sign of its genuineness and in between your own planning of the week, why don’t you just celebrate love.
My little pink-capped friend of the age of three and a half was skipping on my right hand now. Just a quarter of an hour before I had played the dirty card on her promising an ice-cream in town. She wasn’t bad at the game, either, and earned a big chocolate one by loudly declearing I ha di ganz fescht gärn! into the full afternoon train. All heads turned and she quietly climbed on my lap.
I sometimes feel that what is generally missing in the streets of this country is the love you can see and hear. Hardly anyone is kissing in the middle of the streets, and if so, earning the looks of don’t-you-have-a-home… Its not that I necessarily need to witness burning passion in a pizzeria but somehow it seems to stamp love with an „Attention! Heavy!“ seal. I believe love is very fragile, instead, and deserves some space, significance and admiration.
I think in many ways love gets so organised by milestones of days it is living – the dinner menus, the weekly shoppings and holiday plans – and the milestones its supposed to be passing – the getting to know you, the getting together with you, the getting used to you and the that’s why staying together with you – that loving you does not get celebrated at all. The love that makes you giggle on the phone in a meeting, wear perfect make-up every day, put up with jokes from friends and family and fall asleep smiling every time careless if he is next to you or not and careless how many days, weeks or decades you have only had him next to you. Also the same love that makes you make decisions you have never made, face fears you have never acknowledged and eventually, cry madly in case it doesn’t work out after all…
But don’t throw sour looks on it, even if its cried out too loud in a crowded train, or if it happens right in front of your eyes and in front of the vegetable-stand. Its simply a little sign of its genuineness and in between your own planning of the week, why don’t you just celebrate love.
tinkerblond - 26. Okt, 09:46
