gaga blues.diary of imperfect life. now in prague.
This was my third attempt undertaken in the golden city to turn the SonOfTheSun into a man.
Here we are, the mother and the son, after long three years, living together again.
And during these three years – well, many things have happened. From new children to new cities, new books and new views of the world. Both of us have studded our lives with years, but it still seems to me that his 15 years of age have bristled at me like 15 quills I get pricked on regularly.
In the eve of an exceptionally hot day, a blossoming park in front of my block of flats attracts, like a magnet, boys and girls (and a few ladies like me in the final phase of blooming) into its greeny lap. Long into the night, the park rocks us in the rhythm of Brazilian jazz. It is as exotic as it gets, for me, at this very moment.
Czech language has covered all segments of our lives like a thick fishnet. Only here do we understand how the language is, in fact, a miracle. Like breathing, it is present in our lives and we are unaware of its almost omnipotent nature. Liberating, enslaving, almost unperceivable….