A Corona Chronicle
Life slows down to the point where it stands still. Reminiscent of drowning. Not that I know. I never drowned. Only in my dreams. Where water is a recurrent theme. Feelings. Easily overwhelmed by feelings. Me.
I tread my apartment like a fenced animal. Touching the corners with a paint brush. Stretching my body into soothing poses. Twenty counts in thin air. I take care of my daughter as in a nest. Without flying out and in. More like breeding. In anticipation. Of what? Of what’s next.
ODo other people struggle to remain in pace with what is happening today? Days go by in slow motion. A sense of emptiness, purposeless. I’ve started counting calories instead of stars.
BREAKSLOW
Between breakfast and lunch time after yoga I break the fast since last night’s dinner slowly.
A bowl that doesn’t please the eye. Succulent fruit is covered with a non attractive colored cold porridge of dried fruit, banana and seeds.
I used to condemn the health food movements so focused on wholesome food that appearance nor taste seemed to matter.
But stuff got complicated. I like the love of my life to be complicated. I like our dynamic to be as surprising as it is flowing. I like my feelings to resemble the rainbow.
But food for me now is health, nurturing, building material and facilitating life.
The choice of what I make is as stagnant and soothing as the days slowly going by.
prettywoman.recipes 