Journal, 2004
It is summertime and I watch it through these new big windows of mine. The sky is in motion. Sometimes very blue, sometimes too dark, sometimes a storm is performed like this one happening right now. The wind hits the trees in front of my windows throwing the plants of the balcony upside down. I am afraid a tragedy is going to happen at any moment. I am afraid for the old people of the old people’s home the other side of the street – a storm like this can be unberable at that age. Everything is grey and circling like in a tornado in front of my eyes. I ask myself with no calm to really reflect: are there tornados in Northern Europe? There is a mass of movement outside there, everything hits, everything twists, everything revolts. Not knowing what to do until it reaches its end and still scared that something tragic will happen, maybe the end of the world, who knows, I close the curtains, switch off the lights and sit down on the couch. Moments later I stand up and go lay down in bed, while listening to the power of the wind and the heavy drops of rain falling as plumb around my head. I would like to work on the computer, watch tv or talk on the phone, but nothing is allowed with such a revolution. I am not going on vacation this summer, but my boy friend will. These bright windows are not mine actually. I can only look through them for the next 6 short months. Our house is lost and this is not home, just a brief shelter. I have no idea if one day there will be a place for me here in this country which has become also mine somehow. The summer storm seems to come in order to awake something – I feel the motion but I do not identify the purpose. I am alone here, taking everytime more distance of myself, walking into the hostile unknown. I feel it as I feel the angry power of the unexpected tornado outside. Will I survive?