significant othership
On the account of getting an official invitation letter for Israel, I became my love's significant other. Officially. Hmm. We're not comfortable with girlfriend/ boyfriend (too highschool) or partner (too boring). We haven't been able to come up with anything better to call ourselves and our relationship. Now we're significant, it's official. Can't go back.
Israel, the next destination. Quite a change of plans. Mom believes I've no reason to see the sea in Tel Aviv. There's so much sea in Greece and Italy! Poor mom doesn't know I may get to see that Israeli sea as soon as next week-end. I'll drop by her place when the visa comes through. Which may seem improper, but how can I tackle her fears otherwise?
Significant othership, a phrase coined by my love, has nearly brought tears to our eyes this Saturday. Laughing our arses. I'd investigate being his other significant--speaking of labels. Odd to write this Saturday. His Saturday is his Sunday. His Friday is his Saturday, by Israeli terms of service. I work on his Saturday, thus. He works on my Sunday.
We had to have a joint week-end, so it mainly happened on Saturday. Err, Sunday. Oh, forget it! We had week-end on March 17th. One of the best so far. We planned very little. Got in a tram, finally, and traveled like common people. Which involved me elbowing an older woman for a seat, but she elbowed me in the first place. Then I sat on his knee. Nice.
Roaming Dorobanti streets like London, Lisbon, and Bruxelles--the strange, semi-round one--for a cup of coffee didn't turn out well. We stopped in Saga. Had a great discussion. Moved to Belle Epoque. Continued. Roamed some more streets around Calea Floreasca. Enjoyed ourselves and the sunny day, shot some photos, and loved having forgotten both our phones at home. I thought of spring has sprung, he said it. We lived it.
The reason I insist on spring with my series of photos is being thrilled by actually living it this year. For the first time in too many years. I generally woke up somewhere in April, upset that I didn't have any crocus, forsythia, daffodil or hyacinth in my home. Or, worse, I woke up in July wondering whether the lime trees had ever been in bloom that year.
This year, having lived in this studio for six years, I've finally discovered that the block of flats' yard is a bed of violets! This year, I ticked off all the spring flowers. LIVE. At home. Outside. On the phone camera. On his camera. And best? With him. Significant othership blooms in March. When he left to the airport and my house embodied so many beautiful memories, I was rapt with joy. The bathroom smelled of cinnamon. The kitchen smelled of violets--our newly discovered tea. The room smelled of freesia and hyacinth. Yet best? I smelled of him.
Israel, the next destination. Quite a change of plans. Mom believes I've no reason to see the sea in Tel Aviv. There's so much sea in Greece and Italy! Poor mom doesn't know I may get to see that Israeli sea as soon as next week-end. I'll drop by her place when the visa comes through. Which may seem improper, but how can I tackle her fears otherwise?
Significant othership, a phrase coined by my love, has nearly brought tears to our eyes this Saturday. Laughing our arses. I'd investigate being his other significant--speaking of labels. Odd to write this Saturday. His Saturday is his Sunday. His Friday is his Saturday, by Israeli terms of service. I work on his Saturday, thus. He works on my Sunday.
We had to have a joint week-end, so it mainly happened on Saturday. Err, Sunday. Oh, forget it! We had week-end on March 17th. One of the best so far. We planned very little. Got in a tram, finally, and traveled like common people. Which involved me elbowing an older woman for a seat, but she elbowed me in the first place. Then I sat on his knee. Nice.
Roaming Dorobanti streets like London, Lisbon, and Bruxelles--the strange, semi-round one--for a cup of coffee didn't turn out well. We stopped in Saga. Had a great discussion. Moved to Belle Epoque. Continued. Roamed some more streets around Calea Floreasca. Enjoyed ourselves and the sunny day, shot some photos, and loved having forgotten both our phones at home. I thought of spring has sprung, he said it. We lived it.
The reason I insist on spring with my series of photos is being thrilled by actually living it this year. For the first time in too many years. I generally woke up somewhere in April, upset that I didn't have any crocus, forsythia, daffodil or hyacinth in my home. Or, worse, I woke up in July wondering whether the lime trees had ever been in bloom that year.
This year, having lived in this studio for six years, I've finally discovered that the block of flats' yard is a bed of violets! This year, I ticked off all the spring flowers. LIVE. At home. Outside. On the phone camera. On his camera. And best? With him. Significant othership blooms in March. When he left to the airport and my house embodied so many beautiful memories, I was rapt with joy. The bathroom smelled of cinnamon. The kitchen smelled of violets--our newly discovered tea. The room smelled of freesia and hyacinth. Yet best? I smelled of him.
OR Not Quite What I Was Planning, Revised and Expanded Deluxe Edition: Six-Word Memoirs by Writers Famous and Obscure 
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