The July sun is licking the skin with a burning tongue leaving us thirsty for journeys.
Only a week before the long awaited holiday under the hot Tuscanian sun, I am trying to work with diligence on the first chapter of my thesis. The Women role through new media and technology.
Mornings seem to be accommodating, letting me concentrate in the reality between the past where women writers often had to hide their personalities behind the burdensome veil of a man’s name and the reality where still women have to camouflage their personal stories with a digital identity.
Afternoons though come not that cooperative. And here I am on the couch with an open book lying on my belly with wandering thoughts about July.
Last week we celebrated a year anniversary of our marriage.
I clearly remember how an year ago, I asked Rob: But what are we going to do the next day after getting married? He just looked and me and smiled: How come what? We get some stuff and prepare lunch. We laughed.
Plenty of things have changed over this year: we moved away from Budapest to Milan, experienced the process to adjustment to a new city (me), being very patient (Rob), traveled and enjoyed as many moments of outburst of laughter, as those glowing quiet ones, when both of us reading a book shoulder to shoulder. Looking forward for many years like this.
Than there was the spontaneous trip to Bulgaria in the second week of July.
My dearest friend Visha is waiting for me at the airport in Sofia. More charming than ever. After the first five minutes of synchronization of the most important life events, we simply continue our conversation there, where we left it that afternoon in Budapest, last September. We still have the tendency to measure the reality trough the language. But hey, like Elif Shafak says in the last pages of Black Milk, there is no social change without a linguistic one. So, here we are, discussing in which language we are currently living.
And even before, in the beginning of July, Rob and I visited elegant Cremona.
Just an hour drive from the city of Milan, the main square, Piazza del Commune is like a little journey in architectural styles, gorgeously framed between Torrazzo, the third highest bell tower in the world and the Duomo, built in the beginning of the 12th century.
The hometown of the violins, where Antonio Stradivari lived and worked keeps the segret that the Father of the violins used to keep each of the instruments before varnishing it in his bedroom for a month in order to convey a piece of his soul in it.
The list of July favourites includes one the accordion scene from the movie Holy Motors – a remake of Let my baby ride of R.L. Burnside.
What a triumph of emotions.