Foggy pause

I’ve been on vacation for almost two weeks. They end without me having had time to understand that I am on a break. I didn’t do much. I could even say that I haven’t lived for quite some time, even though I still continued to enjoy life physically and metaphorically. What has happened since I no longer have a dishwasher? Well, I’ve done my dishes. Despite my good intentions to save water, I have serious questions about the real savings I’m making. Washing daily using two to four liters of water or spending twelve liters in a week for a machine wash... It seems to me that this is not what will make the difference for Greta. But hey, every gesture counts, they say.

Exactly, what were my other actions? I have read a lot, and I have explored some of the sky charts of friends who suddenly got sick. In any case, the great astrological metaphor knew what to say, what to suggest. I am still surprised by this synchronicity mutant, even if, sometimes, we have to take some and leave some on what the experts write.

I read a few things about mythology...

I also go to the hospital every day to accompany my co-owner friend for an hour or two. I bring him some newspapers. Moreover, on this point, as it is made difficult to bring a journal to someone. There are no more! Everything is now done over the Internet? I even went to Berri-Uqam station to what I thought still existed nearby, the Maison de la presse internationale. Well, no! Closed! And at Renaud-Bray on Saint-Denis, which used to have a good selection? There are only a few American weekend newspapers left. Only Le Devoir and Le Journal de Montréal are resisting.

And then what else? I sleep like a groundhog, I answer a few emails from employees of my company who don’t seem to notice the vacation notice they receive when they write to me. People are not focused these days, it seems... Or is it me who, because I’m motionless, can concentrate adequately?

I cook every day for my great friend, the other friend’s husband. I fixed the roof, one step. I bought myself an active grammar in Portuguese. I have my new choir too. Charming singers. It’s fast, I better get prepared before going there. Really, I do nothing, I listen to the silence around me, I read in my little jar on Lajeunesse Street. They have completed the work on the street. It entertained me for seven days, all these men and their manly and professional machinery.

Winter arrived in a gust of wind, and the cold was not slow to make itself felt, entering through the great northern gate. There will be a thaw, they say. Oh, yeah, I bought boots for myself. The last ones were taking water.

In short, nothing to say, and yet I talked about a little bit of everything. So it’s a foggy little vacation and already the return to work next Monday. My quiet life is like humble learning of statements that are more ambiguous than I am. Everyday life, this great god without words, is thus made.