Life is a theater. No, to me, living is like acting in a theater. I used to wrap blankets around me, pretending to be queens or princesses. Intelligent queen, I would call myself.
I did my makeup when my mom went to market buying food. I quickly removed all when I heard her coming home.
I watched movies, and sometimes fantasizing about how it felt to be the main female character.
I don’t recall exactly when, but I felt even more as a “main character” on that one night I started to notice, why my head only wrapped my own thoughts and why I only saw from my own eyes, instead of others.
I believed in happy endings. I dreamed of prince charming. I imagined to be rescued by a person loving me, despite all odds. I wanted all eyes on me.
Nowadays, life is still a theater sometimes but a more quiet theater. Life becomes more cruel, and nothing like those movies you used to or still watch. Life is a joke, maybe more as a comedy series, because at some points, you know nothing else to do but laughing and carrying on. Life gives you two obvious and simple choices: will you stop or will you continue to walk?
I was told every single one of us has thought about stopping. There are many definitions of that word “stop”. I won’t tell you how you should interpret it as, but I, too, did think about stopping, not once. Some times, I got closer to the stopping point. But, I backed down at those silent moments.
Okay, so then let me tell you about what silence is to me.
There is something about the quietness of days falling into nights, and I got to listen to it even more these days when I moved to France, to this quiet area, small town.
I remembered about the evenings I stayed up doing homework in high school, and got to listen to the city version of quietness. Those silent moments away from my family chaos. And from me trying to compete with whatever I am still unsure.
In Finland, the winter wears the darkness too often, I can’t recall of such same quietness. It was another kind of silence. Summer days are contrastively too bright, some days are even lasting near midnight. At that moment when brief night vanishes turning to a new day, you can still see those purple sweeps over blue sky. Close your eyes and imagine it, I don’t need to use my imperfect words to make it more romantic than it can ever be. That view.
This quietness, is not entirely quiet. The sky is getting darker, slowly. And I love that part the most. One moment ago, it was still dark deep blue. Few moments later, there are stars blinking. It is partly quiet when I just stand there, look at those windows to others’ houses, not in a creepy way. It made me feel cozy, those shed of yellow lights boil inside me the warmth of a family I do not even belong to. I recently met someone who is also keen on looking through windows. But I have never told him I had slightly the same interests.
It is also partly quiet when the sounds of traffic are echoing until a point when they totally disappear. Then another car or motorbike passes by, all things happen again. When all those traffic sounds vanish briefly, I can hear the insects, or maybe frogs making noises. It’s a song they are singing, maybe.
This quietness reminded of my love for city views at nights, my crush for lights laying over the whole cities. It brought me back to those days where I stood also in a small balcony, outside the apartment I lived in Breda, aching about the good gone days.
Quietness of France includes tonight, when I just came up from a midnight dip into the sea. Above me, the sky had its own lamp, brighter than street lights even. The waves are too soft and shy to touch the shores. I was planning to listen to music, but Southern France’s quietness sounds so beautifully, I always put aside my habit. Silence in Provence Alps is within the lights of villages and cities I am looking at, whilst sitting above them all, really high. My crush for city views at evenings have never been stronger.
Those silent moments seduce me, as much as the nights. Nobody tries to do anything. It is already the end of a day, or the very beginning of a new day. But people are sleep, or partying, or just lying on bed relaxing. I love nights because I don’t have to catch up anyone. I can be slow. I am slow. Nights give me the belief I am cheating, by being given extra times of the day while others are sleeping.
Silence and night is a perfect combination.
They are amazing to me. All I have with silence at nights is me and my thoughts. And that is why sometimes it is really scary. All I have with silence at nights is me and my thoughts.
I have realized though, whatever forms my silence at nights (or even not at nights) is in, whatever surrounding me, is breath-taking. Yes, even on those coldest days standing on that frozen lake in Jyväskylä, Finland. In each view, I think I would never find better moments, but mostly I have found. Nothing lasts forever. It sucks. And it slips off your mind all the times. Nothing really lasts forever, good old days, bad old days, time all washes parts of them away.
So, when I am asked do I want to continue to walk. I gotta say yes, right?