Living with paintings

 In our house growing up, it was Andrew Wyeth’s white dog sleeping on a white bed.

There is something peaceful about watching another being rest.

In some Russian homes, there might be an icon in the corner. Kazimir Malevich referenced this in his Black Square.

I heard an orthodox hymn yesterday morning. A woman was singing alone in an old Greek church.

I write you from a popular Russian tourist destination. At first, the constant motion stressed me out, but when I accepted its rhythm the days were full of beauty.

I am better at calming myself down than I used to be. Every moment used to be so “all or nothing”; I was so impulsive. I feel like I’m finally realizing that I can be understanding of myself and what I’ve been through, feel my emotions, emerge, alive.

I saw a peaceful blonde sleeping dog at the market, and a cat restfully curled up in a pile of clothes in a store. 

At a spa, I think of oils and preparations at the end. 

I don’t know if I will ever really surrender to the promise of this life. Maybe it’s not a bad thing to have been separated from hope in this.

All is mysterious. Anyway - I’m grateful for the free and joyful beauty here. I heard melancholy songs all through the night. A child smiled at me in the morning.