I take my coffee black, no sugar, no milk, with a splash of cold water at the rim, so I can taste the invigorating aroma that already fills my nostrils without further delay. This is a predictable, self-inflicted habit circa 7.30am on weekdays that exhilarates the mind and triggers the conqueror in me to ‘Carpe Diem’.
I applaud simplicity when I see it, I relish it, I revel in it. Nothing simpler than a black cup of coffee. Check.
What is it about melodised words that get us going? That gets me going? That triggers a strong emotional reaction that the same words, unmarried to a set of notes, may in certain cases leave me, well not indifferent entirely depending on content, but with such a watered down version of the same feeling.
Number one: for sure it’s the Words. The Words create lines of verse in our heads, prose or poetry, other peoples’ thoughts and concerns that form a story every time, that are somewhat open to interpretation within the boundaries the Words themselves set.
Last night I dreamed of trains; of the past and of the present. No, my subconscious was not preoccupied by the ones of the future and that is not without meaning.
Steam locomotive hauled cargo-bourn squealers and bogies, passenger carrying luxury carriages with all the long-gone glitz and glamour of another era.
Then the Metropolitan tube-type ones that converge and disperse forming underground labyrinths that connect the bustling city above, the grande vitesse ones travelling at phenomenal speeds from one end of the country to the other.
“Life is a train of moods like a string of beads; and as we pass through them they prove to be many colored lenses, which paint the world their own hue, and each shows us only what lies in its own focus.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson.
I remember enjoying the scenery whilst sipping on mint tea in the velvet-dressed dining car of the Orient Express (not to be confused with the Venice Simplon OE that continues to run).
Dear Gray
10 years ago, if I would have thought about it consciously, I would have concluded that I should consider myself amongst the lucky ones of my generation.
Born in dual nationality, that meant I was bilingual before I went to primary school. Attending a British school, I was exposed to students from a multitude of nationalities and cultures. This made me tolerant, seeing the endearing charm of personalities from different backgrounds, however this also cultivated a thirst within me to learn more and more. I guess this is the backbone of why I enjoy travelling as much as I do, when the means allow.
Continue reading The Disadvantages of a Multi-Cultural Nature
Helen Marie Joyce 