Why?

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Why do people want to talk into computer and write monologues, hoping at the same time that someone will read? And blogwriters seem to be much more exposed, like open secrets.

Actually, here we take the time to contemplate, to think through oure thoughts. Noone is iterrupting (not that it was a bad thing- oh no- polite arguing is quite constructive), but... People are not used to sit in the silence and listen their own mind, so blogs are like the replacement nutriment. And yes, friends, relatives- people read the blogs indeed. And they take time to "listen" to us.

It's like having a silent dialog.

Am I willing to open myself also? Somewhere are still lines that I can not across. Noty yet. Maybe some day.

What I want is to remember my life, and that my mates rememember these things with me.

I barely remember the sounds and tastest from the past.
Do you know why was long time ago the grass greener and the sky bluer? Because young human eye catches colours as much brighter and clearer. More older we get more numb oure senses will be.

I want to remember
the specific taste of the apples from my own garden- when they were too green to drop down. But the freshness was that invitating that we (me and my two brothers) ate them and every time it ended with a real wigging by oure granny;

and the taste of the white sour cream in the plastic can. Once I sit on one of them...;

and I want to remember the bright yellow colour of the fields where did the dandelions grow and than the blotchy hands after making chaplet of them and the little spots few days later;

and the yellow walls of my home, bright red windowframes, the roof of eternize- in this summer finally we changed the roof, house was painted already the second time with different colour;

and the grumble of my fathers different cars- Audi, Volvo, a buntch of Mercedes (everyone with different specific sound elements)etc. I already am forgetting those russian cars- Siguli and Lada... Riho's car- 86' Mercedes- my favourite car in the world- sometimes still reminds me the smell of the old mangy leatherseats;

and the taste of the cucumbers. We used to have huge greenhouse where parents had cucumberplants and after harvest they travelled to Poland to sell them. Nearby lived and old lady, the name was... oh, gone with the wind... She gave us white bread with butter, and it tasted miraculously. Sometimes she covered it with sugar...

I could continue as long as the sun shines.

I'm already at this point when I don't make difference betweeb my ages 14 or 16. Once I wondered why doesn't grandmother remember something that imortant (she talked about something that was quite important turn in her life but she couldn't remember her exact age. Now she is 93 years old. Shame on me that could I think so). No I wonder- how did she remember it at all!



I have a saying in my mind that I repeat to myself after once in a while:

To remember these things...



So I hope this blog will help me to remember my moments that in common life are maybe too inappreciable to even say them out loud. But after ten years these things will bring together the whole picture.

I hope to get the moments to type in different aspects that may not be interesting for you, blogreader, but for me- as blogwriter- they will keep together the puzzle.

All the best,
Preti

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