I keep coming up with (but not publishing) little snippets of posts, little descriptions of moments, things I have seen, lingering life I have lived.

Life lived hectically in Italy while I was there; bathed in memories, friends’ love and my innate Italian language.
The brutally-honest-and-too-rough hurried conversations with best friends *there*, due to lack of time to tell the nuances of everything *here*. The sun on my skin, the familiar scents of my best friends, wonderful wines drunk over dinner in favourite restaurants, feeling as if I had so much to tell, but not enough time. Loss of nuances, of wondering what it all is, what it all means. Thoughts idly wandering to experiment new points of view, to discover new patterns.

Life lived here in Denmark. Moments lived as apparent-but-not-quite-clones of how I always lived them, repeating themselves in the loop of my days. And moments that look like nothing I have lived before. I don’t always recognise myself these days and my reaction to that is, sort of,  lacking too. I am not analyzing my motives, even when I don’t understand,  but keep a close eye on me, often raising a mental eyebrow in mild surprise. Everything is not what it seems to be, I am lost in the nuances *here*. And I am letting myself get lost in it, trying to go with the flow. And curious as to where it takes me, I am discovering new hues, wonderful colours in this.

New beginnings indeed.

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