I love coffee. I think Sturbucks coffee shops are the best places for writing. It’s so noisy and they play good music – if you pay attention to it – and most of the people there are also working. It’s an unprofessional working environment, it’s like doing something you’re forbidden to. It’s dirty and cool.
I find it fascinating how I can hear the music, look at the people around me but still remain in my own world. I can hear them talking but it’s a pleasant background. I could never do that at home. I can’t even read with music at home. Most of the time I write during the night or late in the evening. Though I need peace and quiet to concentrate, it seems that noise can be a better background than the powerful and heavy quietness. I like it when I get lost in my thoughts and I look at someone drinking their coffee or talking or getting dressed and I don’t think at what I’m looking at, I’m just trying to find my words. I stop writing, look at a shelf or some cups or people around or a table and take a sip of my coffee and get back to my paper. I think I do the same thing at home too but I probably know my room so well that it does not relax or inspire me anymore.
I also love sunny days. But not summer sunny days. In summer, all days are sunny, so they’re not special. But autumn sunny days are magical. It’s chilly but the sun makes you think it’s worm outside. The natural bright light just makes me smile. It’s amazing how much the sun can influence my mood. I instantly wake up smiling when it’s sunny outside.
I just took a break to listen to the funky jazz they’re playing here and it makes me feel like dancing.
I love it how thoughts roll into my head and start dancing around going from one thing to another and then coming back to the first, connecting to another one and so forth.
My recipe for a perfect day: autumn, a lot of sun, a big good coffee, writing to do, noisy place, good music, thoughts and smiles.
And on top of that, on my way home, as I was reaching for the elevator’s door I heard a beautiful violin sound. I stopped asking myself where was it coming from. Does someone who plays the violin leave here? I started walking up the stairs, slowly, listening to that beautiful music. As I was going up I could hear it louder and louder. When I reached the third floor, it stopped. I stopped too, waiting for it to start again. But it didn’t. Disappointed, I continued walking. On the 4th floor I could hear it again. Louder this time. I was getting close to it. A few more steps and there it was. The man playing the violin so beautifully. I stood there, at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at him and listening to his violin in a trance. It was so beautiful I cried. I felt tears coming slowly down my cheeks as I was smiling to that gorgeous sound. I closed my eyes and cried. He finished his song, passed by me as he was going one floor down. I was so shocked I could not react. I looked at his violin box. It had 5 lei. I couldn’t move. I started walking and he started singing again. I burst into tears and continued going up the stairs. I got home, stood inside for a second and went back on the staircase. I was leaning by the wall and listening that violin crying as my tears joined it. What a beauty! I started walking down the stairs again. He was on the third floor. I gave him all the money I had in my pocket. He thanked me and changed to allegro for a few seconds and then went back to his song. I burst into tears again as I was going up the stairs. So much beauty!
