51

Today, twenty years later, I'm reminiscing about when we had a lot of snow in the early days of my childhood. In the beginning of '90s the USSR has collapsed, and my parents, being ordinary teachers at school, did not have enough money to buy us a sled. They pulled my younger brother and me on the snow in a huge basin. Yes, yes, yes, the one that we used for washing clothes! Being kids, we loved it, we enjoyed it.

Twenty years ago, I tried my first Snickers chocos, Chupa Chups and Kinder Surprise. My parents would buy these things once a month when they received their salary.

17 years ago, I went to school (as they called it "English") and my parents drove me on the bus №94 from the suburbs to the city. The taxi ride was quite a luxury.

Today, twenty years later, I look back and realize that I had a very happy childhood. Even though I dreamed of a Barbie doll (the real one, not Chinese!) and it cost 3000 soums, which was the entire monthly salary of my mom.

Once, a neighbor boy told me – ‘we have two tv‘s, and you have only one. You are poor!‘ I cried to death. My mother told me that we are not poor, we just have one TV. Today with my salary I can buy 10 TV‘s, hundreds of Barbies and thousands of Snickers chocos.

You have to understand, that raising a child was not the easiest thing to do in a former republic of the USSR. My father had to quit his job as a teacher and work in a bank as accountant, counting someone elses money.

I never would have been me, if it weren‘t for my parents.
If it were not for my Mom.
If it weren‘t for my Dad.

I am so grateful for everything that I have. I owe them a lot.

Yes, I did not have a Barbie doll and sled as a kid, but my parents, especially my father, taught me that you have to work hard and be honest with yourself, then you'll achieve everything you want.

Today, my dad turned 51. He will not read this passage. In our family we're not used to showcasing our emotions. And there are the times when I have disagreements with my father. There are also disputes and fights. But he knows that I love him. And I always will.

Happy Birthday, Dad!

Happy Birthday, Dad!

***

“Well, we’re all wounded. We carry our wounds around with us through life, and eventually they kill us. Things happen that leave a mark in space, in time. In us.”

***

The best thing is that you cruise the morning streets, and the sun blinds your eyes, and you want to sink in peace and serenity of this morning. And you feel blessed. And just right here and right now Alexi Murdoch’s ‘All my days’ remains the soundtrack of your life.

***

Winter doesn’t look like winter for me. So was the autumn. Seasons are just passing by, or is it me passing by the seasons? I just don’t feel them, and I can’t catch the mood. I live in my own microcosm which has its own weather, inhabitants, micro events and such.

I can’t do a chronicle. Life’s going too fast, too intensive. It’s because we’re young, bold, and full of energy and we don’t want to look back. I want to capture all of the moments, all of the faces, smiles, events, conversations, but by the morning it’s all scattered. You forget what you felt yesterday, and while you try to reminiscent, everything is gone.

And a new day is born.

On top of the world

I am on top the world. Swimming in the boundless ocean of time, dissolving in the bliss of my being. I can taste the sweet nectar of life on my lips, as if I knew beforehand, what my destiny has chosen for me. As if during these twenty years, I’ve been saving up my strength, getting ready for the biggest start of my life.

I can see my reflection in the scattered circles of history, the same history which has covered my short fleeting sojourn on this sinful earth with its homely but sweeping lines. I am wearing the most beautiful, dazzling, spring blue cornflower dress and running, running, running barefooted in the eternal, never ending carnival of life, this cheerful and idle masquerade where the whirligig of time carries you through a hazy tunnel of short flashes of serenity and long expectations, celebrations of love and separation.

I am twisting in my hands a fragile glass of life with a sparkling wine inside – the crimson colored blood throbbing through my veins, reverberating with continuous strokes in my temples, wrists, chest, plaiting into the intricate tracery and secret labyrinths of an unfading soul.

I am floating on the waves of my obstinate fate letting flow through my fingers a bitter injustice mixed with the sweet venom of random meetings, devastation, lost feelings, future affections, shed tears and moments of reverential happiness.

I am a tiny grain of sand of the enormous Kitchen of the Universe and I don’t know all of the magical recipes of the skillful Chief Cook, who is ritually slicing human fates one by one flavoring them with salt and honey. His Kitchen resembles a Noah’s Ark full of earthquakes, tsunamis, autumn rains, early dews, the Babel Pandemonium of birthdays, funerals, weddings, dates, tiffs and conciliation.

I am floating and melting in a paradisaical fluid, I am an embryo inside of the mighty, intimidating Universe, whose breadth has neither beginning nor end. Its waters are carrying me over the waves of a reckless journey called Life.

And it seems to me I am on top of the world.

While drawing hearts on paper I realized that…

I’m always in love. In love with life, music, people, places, someone’s random smile or a funny joke. Even when it hurts, I keep loving. I hope I will not regret anything when i make it to the end. After all, love is all we need.

Banal. Super!

I would like to write something interesting, something sad or happy, funny or tedious, pseudo intellectual or stupid, but everything I can tell you – is just solid banalities, ordinary details of my ordinary life. And yet, isn’t our life a series of invisible to the eye, or obvious, pleasant (and oh so not) banalities?

We are fragile and helpless.

We can only live out one more day in the suffocating city of stone, which we love and hate at the same time. All we need is something like a smile casually thrown by a passerby, a cold piece of watermelon, or a favorite song on the radio while we ride in a taxi. This is so trite, tongue-tied, but so damn nice and sweet to the heart.

And we are alone and abandoned.

We are waiting for some miracle. We want to be found, heard. We set hundreds of lighthouses on Facebook, put in our favorite music Radiohead, and we look for soul mates. We want to be understood. Loved. All of this is so sickeningly hackneyed and vulgar. But do you not reach the top of the world, when the salt of a kiss remains on the lips? Does not a soul make it to heaven when the body jolted from the electrical discharge arising out of the unity of the two loving people?

Banal. Super!

Take me out tonight

I am watching The Smith’s video where Morrissey and a bunch of guys are riding bicycles. There is always this poetic vibe to bicycles. There is so much carelessness, even some naivete to them. Reminds one of an old charming toy from your childhood. So probably this is the reason why I love taking pictures of bicycles, on an unconscious level of course. And I have this mood tonight: as Morrissey sings in my favorite song ‘Take me out tonight, because I want to see people and I want to see life’. I definitely like early-september-evenings-in-Tashkent. People coming back from work, people walking with their kids, wives, mistresses, friends, enemies, those lovely echoes of chit chats you catch from the far, the breeze giving you goosebumps and a (hypothetical) gentleman taking care of you with his extra-large jacket. So yeah, take me out.

***

What has poisoned me for ages is gone now. There is so much life out there, i can feel it running through my veins, in every tiny cell of my being, in every corner of my soul. Explosion. Ashes. Snow. Stillness. The majesty of Earth. And life.

***

“But, truly, I have wept too much! The Dawns are heartbreaking. Every moon is atrocious and every sun bitter.”
— Arthur Rimbaud

Blessed days

Blessed days. Friends, lovely chit chats, occasional catch ups, meetings, desserts, plans, flirts, music, funny jokes, research, work, compliments, inspiration, knowledge, expectations, city strolling, pool, photography, musings. I have it all. I love it all.

The vanished voices of my childhood

I was sitting there, under the peace of the trees my late grandfather planted with love, waiting for the solace to come. Almost in a semi coma, in a mysterious oblivion, I was trying to bring back to life the vanished voices of my happy childhood spent in the walls of this house, the house with a stack of deserted rooms where grief and devastation nestled down by now.

Strolling through these dark rooms with broken furniture, dusty curtains, torn pages of an old newspapers and old toys on the floors, I realized that the house of my childhood doesn’t exist anymore.

The only way to recall my childhood memories are these incoherent attempts of putting my feelings into words. And most of the time I fail doing so.

***

Moments of peace embrace you accidentally. You stand by the window after the sweet daydreaming drinking your green tea with honey, watching the vivid reflections of life and here it is. The feeling of completeness envelopes you and the serene light of a sunset makes your skin dazzle.

The weight of the world

As time passes by you don’t feel the weight of the world. Earthquakes, tsunamis, wars and demonstrations in support for dying dears - nothing touches your heart. You just sense the absurdity of life and the melancholy of the human soul. Its lust for love and care is the only thing that matters - it’s the vivid evidence of being alive.

And when someone says ‘close your eyes’ you do so in a desperate hope to feel how your body trembles again, in an irreplaceable thirst for a feeling which seems to be stronger than any revolution or economic collapse.

And when someone says ‘you’re not alone’ you crave for a state of mind where you don’t feel the pavement under the soles of your shoes.

And when someone says ‘I’m with you’ you sincerely want to follow their mantra because your lonely soul needs fulfillment.

In the end we all want to feel alive…

Message to my Ex

When I lost you I felt homeless. I thought no one ever could replace you. No one ever could make me feel the way you did. It doesn’t mean that I love you or miss you. I’ve got freedom; I’m not bounded to you anymore. I don’t even reminiscent that summer. I feel nothing when I picture us at that place. I don’t even tremble when I bring myself to the heat of the August evening when you kissed my cheeks and put on taxi after you spent an hour gazing at me while I was sitting on your chair.

When I first met you, I was fascinated by your fragility. You stared at me with eyes full of childish innocence. All the way home I wouldn’t stop thinking of you. I immediately recognized that feeling. A fatality that was hopeless to avoid.

These little memories don’t mean anything now – a heavy baggage of fourteen-month joy, tears, passion and sorrow of no value. The process of overcoming my addiction to you remained a celebration of mournful silence, a broken heart and a tragic darkness. And while I enjoyed my misery I was safe. I had been walled up in a house of grief.

Then I let it go.

Suddenly I was deadly alive and felt nothing. I found myself in a state of numbness. The life was in fool bloom – friends, dates, inspiring acquaintances, long journeys, birthday parties – I had everything. And I still have. But there was this weird phobia of never having passion for someone. I met a lot of decent man since we parted our ways. They were funny, they were caring, they were noble and more than that, but I couldn’t fall for them. Only you lit my fire and burned from the inside.

I was wandering in this world where home was just a phantom, a vague contour of two bodies intertwined in the sea of love. Since I lost you, I realized that in the end all human beings come from nowhere and go to nowhere. We are homeless strangers on the bridge of life ready to make the very last step.

Now after two years had passed, I could look back and see that there was so much distrust and anger inside me, that it transformed me into a wounded beast. I could have died from this pain stroke; I could have faded away in the world where you didn’t belong to me. To the cheeks you used to kiss, you gave a slap. Not physically, but that which panged me almost to death. I was such a nonentity that I self pitied myself for months and months.

Now after two years had passed, we are not even friends. You are just a lonely broken soul. And me… Now, a bright young woman, with a loving man beside, I see no ghosts from the past. Not anymore…

Am I 23?

It’s been a good year for me, though I lost many dearest people – my grandfather, who died of heart attack in late August, my brother who got married and now is living his own life, my boyfriend who left me just one month before our wedding, my second boyfriend whom I loved to death, and some friends who just turned out to be strangers when I met them after a few years of their absence.

But they say when you lose, you get something new. I met a lot of fantastic people this year. They’ve been supporting me, making me feel safe, fulfilling me and giving a new meaning to my life. I shared so many joyful moments with them - I laughed, I had fun, I cried, I was so honest and open.

This year I finally saw a sea. It was my biggest dream ever. I went to Istanbul, which had been in my must see list for a long time. I shouted out my voice and danced out my legs at U2 show and lip-synched to ‘New Year’s’ day which is my favorite song. I smoke a cigarette sitting near pier and looking at the sun going down in Bodrum. I felt such a blessing watching sunburned faces of people and their careless whisper in the sunset. I listened to the songs of seagulls and lonely ships.

People I loved broke my heart. I cried many nights. I felt like I was stranded. I felt desperation and pain. But this has given me a great spiritual experience. I witnessed my own rebirth. And I got confidence and strength. And power. And will. And I wrote my best poems. I am happy that I had a wide range of emotions which allowed me to write those sacred letters.

This year I got a new job, I’m so fond of it and very devoted. It gives me a fabulous opportunity to express my thoughts and ideas. Every day I meet so many wonderful people, which is an amazing chance to exchange experiences and cultures and make a mutual contribution.

I’m a little bit sad. I will be missing all that french kisses and musings with Radiohead playing in the background. I’ll be missing the carelessness and innocence I had. But overall, 2010 was a beautiful journey - I explored new worlds and microcosms, I pushed my own boundaries.

But what I really feel is a huge excitement. I don’t know what this year will be about, but I hope I will have all people I love by my side. And I don’t care if it’s pathetic. I’m just 23. With passion in my heart, wind in my hair and light in my soul I’m so fucking happy. Take me as I am.

January 2010

Stillness

Suddenly I felt abandoned sitting on a wooden bench between two minarets somewhere in the Old City. I was isolated from my daily routine giving smiles away to a bunch of strangers I meet every day at work. I found myself in a state of an utter oblivion and meditation listening to Nino Catamadze and putting my face to the rays of the sun. For just a second, all the past had vanished, only the wind was playing with my hair and I saw nothing around me but the wild blue sky. I was gifted 15 minutes of pure solitude, a moment of wholeness with myself.

And while I was uncovering my deepest thoughts and drowning in an ocean of cogitation, I realized that I didn’t want to move, just sit there for the rest of my life embracing the stillness of the moment’s beauty, the split second of an ubiquitous completeness, conciliation, peace and serenity.

The truth is that I needed no one to share this small island of escape, where nothing but the wild blue sky would bring the joy of life and heal the wounds. I needed no one to talk to, to hold a hand and look at - just me listening to Nino Katamadze’s soothing lullaby. Just me…

March, 2010

Do We Really Want That Slice of Heaven?

I love these women smiling gracefully from the pages of the glossy magazines. They have smooth white teeth, perfect makeup, no wrinkles, and shiny, flawlessly-coiffured hair – not one strand out of place. They don’t have cellulite; they eat healthy food and stay thin. They wear expensive designer dresses, luxurious Van Cleef and Arpels diamonds, and the signature red soled Louboutins.

They lean on their designer pillows carefully placed in their elegant interiors, without any speck of dust and the nearby tables are topped with impeccable vases holding beautiful bouquets of roses. Blissful sunlight streams through their windows. It’s Heaven and I want some of it!

For a moment I want to become one of these women as I don’t have diamonds, I don’t put on makeup, I don’t have nail extensions, and my neighbor from above cooks food for her cats, the nauseating odor from which permeates my entire flat, and looking out my window I can see the police station with another fight between the prostitutes, drug addicts and drunken teenagers.

For just a split second I want to become the woman who smiles at me from the pages of the glossies. I start wishing to have this perfect nose, these long legs, these miniature wrists… Okay, let me confess – I am not perfect, I have a disproportionate nose, I am only 165 centimeters tall, I don’t do manicure at times, my hair is not perfect when it’s not washed for 2 days, and my legs are bitten by mosquitoes.

While looking at this perfect picture on page 256, I start realizing that this is not me and this is not who I want to be. I want to be myself, I want to be real and live in a real world. I want to allow myself to eat in bed, drink juice straight out of can, wear my pajama with cherries and hearts on it all day long, get my heels broken at the most inappropriate moment, accidentally wear my t-shirt back to front, eat my occasional burger at McDonald’s, spoil Maple Creme Brulee I decided to cook after reading Better Homes and Gardens and spill a coffee on my new skirt.

It’s so easy to be carried away by the power of glossies. It makes us less confident, more critical of ourselves than we used to be before we got the latest issue of our Vogues. A girl with bad self esteem can become a slave, a hostage of this fake, fictitious world. It is so easy to turn into a beautiful soulless doll. And what’s more obvious, is that it’s easy to believe this world exists! You can always look up the details given at the bottom of the page for where this or that chic designer dress is available. It seems to be so simple – you bought everything the woman is wearing and you think you can become happier. But don’t lie to yourself; you just bought a beautiful dream.

Don’t get me wrong. I want to have a beautiful life too. I want to live in a house designed by Rem Koolhaas. As every woman I secretly wish to own a Chanel 2.55 bag, and sometimes Louboutins take my breath away too. Women like to dress up, which is great! But what’s more important is not to lose your beautiful soul. Don’t forget who you are and where you are from. Don’t exchange the warmth of your heart for the glitter of silk and diamonds. Be in harmony with yourself and the world around you.

Every time I go out wearing a fancy dress and statement heels, I know I’ll eventually be back at home wearing my cherry-hearted pajamas, watching an old French movie and eating a cheese sandwich on the bed.