Je ne suis pas Charlie. Je suis Saman.

© Saman Giraud

Je ne suis pas Charlie. Je suis Saman.

I am deeply saddened by the attacks on Charlie Hebdo in Paris and I too, like all of you, condemn any terrorist attack and any form of violence towards another human being. 

The attacks in Paris are profoundly shocking and it took me a few days to process the news. My thoughts are with the families of the victims and the people of France ever since. Acts of violence are not a solution and they will never be. 

To my friends I'd like to say that hate speech is not a solution either. It is a form of violence on its own. We all, religious and non-religious people are upset, angry and hurt yet remember that we are better than the product of our anger. We are smarter. We have the luxury to access information and enjoy education and we have the means to make our voices heard and speak up. 

I condemn any extremism comments, be it on Facebook or spoken out loud, as extremism leads to extremism and I will not support any form of hate or generalization especially not when we're talking about nearly 2 billion people globally. 

Remember that there is no or very little real depth analysis in the media and that the issue is broken down into a recipe based on three ingredients: a satire, a religion and a gun. Remember that there is more to it. 

Therefore it is important to ask the right questions and I'd like to ask all of you to take the time, even when upset, to question everything you read in the media. Do your research until you find answers for yourself that you can represent and argue for. If you take a step back you might even see that history is simply repeating itself. 

We should remember that these terrorist acts are an aberration of people's faith.
We should remember more than ever to respect and protect our friends and people who are faithful and innocent as they have been and will be the target of hatespeech, insult, violence and discrimination. 
Remember to call for reason.

We should stand united against terrorist attacks and any form of extremism. We should stand united against polarization and hate. We should stand for mutual respect and love for those who are innocent. 

Je ne suis pas Charlie. Je suis Saman.

Maverick

Your voice whispers blandly my name, 

Drowning the noises of a world I do not understand,

Appeasing my fire, guarding my flame, 

Treasuring clandestinity that neither you or I had planned...

Affinity expelled prudence the moment we met,

Rarely in times, ones own life song can be a duet, 

I dove in your loving gaze, fearless, perhaps I knew, 

That in the unknown depths I would find me within you.

 

Ingeniously you strike my hair as if you would touch my skin,

In the palm of your sweet hands I learned where I begin.

Your luscious scent, once inhaled, is addictive as air, 

Paired with your voluptuous kisses words fail to compare.

Forgive my voice, it lacks my words, my whisper is due,

Let me elucidate, this poem is just for you.

Wisdom of a Cookie

©Saman Giraud

A Love Letter by Count Tolstoy

 

I already love in you your beauty, but I am only beginning to love in you that 
which is eternal and ever precious - your heart, your soul. 
Beauty one could get to know and fall in love with in one hour 
and cease to love it as speedily; 
but the soul 
one must learn to know. 
Believe me, nothing on earth is given without labour, 
even love, 
the most beautiful and natural of feelings.

Inspiration

It was a cold November night a few years ago; one of those nights whose whispers, announcing the approaching snowfall, become louder and inevitably reach my ears, where the air is crisp, almost razor-sharp, cracking like a whip, where the smell of pure, chilled air fills my warm summery lungs and where the empty streets of New York City are filled with the sudden void of in between seasons.

I gently pulled my bed sheets, wakening the mild perfume of detergent, and laid my heavy head on the pillow, evenly spreading out my thoughts. With each passing moment, my body started to descend into the mattress while the day began its surrender - leaving me to the mysterious nothing yet to come...

My eyes were closed when the serenity was interrupted: a fast pacing storm of distinct pictures and vivid colors, of unique characters and dialogues, of old french music and moods as diverse as only a human soul can be, invaded my mind. Dense Inspiration at its purest hit me like a thunderbolt and took over everything that is me: It spread from my eyes to the tip of my fingers, adhered to my bones until they merged and rushed through my blood in a state of urgency, pushed its way through my veins and pumped up my heart.

I glared at the ceiling, gasping for air, pushed away the bed sheets I had wrapped myself in only moments earlier - its cozy warmth suddenly an obstacle. I jumped out of the bed, ran to the kitchen to prepare fresh coffee only to run immediately back to my bedroom where I slid the heavy window with all my strength and as fast as I could to let all the air in that I could possibly inhale while still surrounded by darkness. The light switch seemed to be yet another obstacle, but one I could live without overcoming.  I prepared my desk that was facing the open window with the one thing that would be needed for the moments to come: a blank page on my laptop's screen. And when I finally sat down I looked up into the dark blue sky , greeted the moon and started to write. 

I remember how I tried to write as fast as possible, led by the fear of losing the pictures in my head at any moment, led by the rage that my fingers could not type as fast as I could see and led by the rush of Inspiration still running through my veins that made my heart beat so fast that I would not breathe but gasp for air. 

Four hours later: 'M4 - My Many Married Men' was born and I sat there in the darkness, my inspiration looking right at me.

Mud

How I despise the words of those who accused me of being happy
Accused as if it was simply a mark given by birth
Accused as if it was simply a seed of luck growing on my earth
Accused, accused, accused as if it was not me who turned happy
But happiness turned to me

Mud, mud, mud it was
Mud all over me

How I despise the words of those who accused me of being happy - as if by chance
Judgements of those too blind to see - kings and queens of ignorance
Bathing in the velvet throne of comfort, in a dark room separated from hope
Surrounded by a wall built by the sad remains of the hand cut last rope
Efforts unborn, already dead
Buried deep in muddy earth, left alone, they fled
Their hands seemed clean from mud, but their skin was dyed in red

Mud, mud, mud it was
Mud all over me

It was at dawn when fear came over you
When shadows grew tall and sight was taken from you to seek truth
When roads behind you suddenly disappeared
And in a starless night the endless unknown neared

It was at night when mud grabbed your feet
When each step ahead was one step too deep
When happiness you thought you know well
Was made of words you could not spell

And while you buried hope right there and then
I walked the road not knowing of its end
I walked the road in darkness, blind and by myself
With no hand to hold and fear my only friend

I sank, I sank, I sank my friend
Buried in mud, I died, it was an end
But darkness passed like a seasons change
My skin a crispy desert, newborn and strange

Murder, you who killed your spirit
An empty shell of life is what remained!
You who dress in life and judge is you who should be ashamed.

It is the mud that is my happiness
My hands are dirty for everyone to see
I am life - not more not less
The mud all over me.

Reasons To Hate New York

For 7 years, the New York magazine has been publishing 'Reasons to love New York'. The truth is that even though I love the city, it is not any different than a lover and therefore not perfect. But only once you acknowledge the imperfections, you can achieve acceptance or not, truly commit to the city and consider yourself as a New Yorker, who loves the city with flaws and all....

1_Attitude "I live in New York therefore I am important. You should know who I am. And in case you don't, I am more than happy to spell my name for you. Write it down and memorize."

2_Cracks Nuts 'The Nutcracker' performed by the New York City Ballet is considered by the New York magazine as 'our culture', written by Tchaikovsky and choreographed by Balanchine, who were both Russian just for the record. Anyone who has the slightest idea what an amazing merge this is, will be absolutely disappointed by the performance.

3_BK Myth Brooklyn is cool because Brooklyn is Brooklyn. Excuse me?

4_Cracks Brain Mental illness and Starbucks can be found on almost each block. With a broad range from PTSD, phobias, major depressions, bipolar syndrome, OCD, ADHD, substance abuse and more, it is not surprising that the top-selling class of drugs in the US are antipsychotics. Yes, the city is crazy.

5_Yellow Submarine The yellow cab shift change between 4-5 pm where it is impossible to get a cab, unless your destination is on his way home.

6_MTA = Morons Take Advantage The MTA charges us more every year and still doesn't manage to run on time when it rains, let alone snows. Instead there are service cuts. At least we know what we are paying for - with more than 10% of MTA employees earning more than a 100k a year.

7_Family Even though you have a live in nanny you send your kid to pre-pre-kindergarten.

8_Busy You don't have time, no matter what your job is , no matter if you have one: you are busy and that's why you slurp your stinky fish soup in the subway or stuff a sandwich in your mouth on the go while you're on the phone. Nail clipping included.

9_Addiction You can drug yourself up with over the counter medicine. Your dealer is officially legal.

10_Pee Pee Crime Public toilets are yet to be built, while public urinating is against the law. And when charged under the health code 153.09 it is a misdemeanor which is a crime under New York law. Pee pee goers are forced to be criminal.

11_Rent Is Too Damn High Living in Manhattan is expensive. Even though you can find a cheap room on Craigslist. Here is a typical ad: 'Location, location, location!The apartment is located in the basement of a town house in the fancy west village. Your room would be the first one in a railroad apartment. We are 8 super laid back folks who are looking for someone fun, quiet and clean. Vegans only.' Really?

12_Teach Me How To Doggie While the New York Dog law requires a rabies vaccination, it doesn't require your dog to wear a muzzle. But it's good to know that if i should get bitten, i won't have rabies. Thanks.

13_Dirty Just because you drop your laundry at the cleaners, doesn't mean they use detergent.

14_Nature Calling small areas like Paley Park a 'park' even tough there are more potted plants than rooted trees.

15_Major Bloomberg Problem He who enacts laws depending on his vision of the city while not accepting pay for his labor. I say let's pay him so that he functions as our voice and not his. The price we pay is much higher than his salary.

16_Starfucks You have to tip even if there is no table service and you have a coffee to go.

17_Vacation The US doesn't have government-mandated time off. Means: no mandatory vacation days. A similar government: good old China.

18_Marc Jacobs Invasion 382 Bleecker Street, 385 Bleecker Street, 400 Bleecker Street, 403 Bleecker Street. Save Bleecker Street!

19_Mean Streets Bumps, holes and cracks ruin heels, make you want to puke in a cab and cause a lot of bike accidents.

20_Monolgues The loneliness that makes strangers talk to you even if they were not asked to. The worst part is that even if you ignore them, they keep talking. Sharing is not always caring.

21_Trash Album Living in a 3rd world country where garbage cans are not provided is one thing. But what does it say about the people of a city when there are plenty of garbage cans and still such an extensive amount of trash that tourists take pictures of it?

22_Smoking is not allowed in front of certain buildings even though the air of the city can cause cancer. Try prohibiting parking in front of certain buildings and I guarantee you a healthier life.

23_Visa While immigration becomes harder and harder with each year for foreigners with the best intentions, Bridge and Tunnel people still invade the city each weekend with loud nasty talks, fights and fake nails. Visa please.

24_Subway Grease the rails or fix the breaks - whatever it is that needs to be done because 'as little as 30 minutes of exposure to decibel levels measured in NYC transit system per day has the potential to result in hearing loss. ' (Columbia University, Mailman School research)

25_Sick You don't call sick unless you were hit by car so severely that you can't walk.

26_Slut Prostitutes were replaced by escorts. Illegal became legal and a new synonym for hooker was born.

27_Gristedes is gross.

28_Text you text, you don't call. Problem: you can text bullshit forever but you can't talk bullshit forever.

29_Vogue Elisabeth von Thurn und Taxis gets her column and can't write. When exactly did blue blood replace proficiency?

30_Freedom It is perfectly fine to have In Vitro Fertilization with the egg of a donor, the sperm of a donor, through a surrogate for a want-to-be-single mum at the age of 50.

End New York is the center of the world.

Paris Je T'Aime

©Saman Giraud

Midnight in Paris

'All cowardice

comes from not loving

or

not loving well

- which is the same thing.'

Woody Allen

Love actually

While I am certainly not fond of routines once they start taking over spontaneity, I do enjoy the, what I call, 'children' of certain routines like Christmas because after all, I was not born or raised religious. Our family didn't sing any songs, nor did we pray or attend Christmas mass. And we certainly never reflected on Jesus. To make a long story short, to us, Christmas could have taken place on a random day like May 16th if at all.

Christmas was rather a yearly tradition that we adopted, celebrated solely as a peaceful gathering of family and close friends, because as it seems the majority of the people, especially families, need a date and a reason in order to overcome past peculiar quarrels and focus on the one thing that matters most: Love.

A religious holiday, even in a non religious family, is the best subconscious force of it all - my parents knew that and took blunt advantage of it: family and friends would dress up, hug each other intensely, kiss and laugh. Those who walked into our apartment would forgive and forget - all in the name of the holiday. Cicero was right: ' An unjust peace is better than a just war.'

On nights like that, we would enjoy a never ending homemade dinner whose smell would blend perfectly with the smell of the tree, the smell of sweet burning wood from the fireplace, the smell of the masses of fresh white snow that the winter breeze would try to squeeze in, and the smell of the people I love. Needless to say that until this day, this very smell is the exquisite perfume of a long lost joyous time.

Dinner was usually followed by the mandatory gift exchange where my poor parents seemed disadvantaged to me. My sister and I would get various gifts in different shapes and sizes, wrapped beautifully in colorful gift paper, with bows and ribbons from all the people who attended dinner, while my parents would nod and smile, be polite by the book and thankful for their health.

It was perfectly fine for me to gratify my dad every year with a new tie that I could afford with pocket-money that I received from him. At the end of his life he was the proud proprietor of an entire tie collection and I wondered if I should have asked him for a pocket-money raise back then in order to buy him a nice watch. I came to the sober conclusion that it would have made no sense at all . Looking back, I see how the entire 'pocket-money-gift' from kid to parent was nothing but an act of Love and the living proof that it is the thought that counts.

It was one of the best days of the year, considering the fact that it was not my birthday but actually the one of someone else I never knew. Plus if you think about it: when else is it nowadays socially acceptable to put an entire chopped down tree into your apartment?

Moving to New York City with no family and close friends by my side had many downsides apart from the one that I had no one that I could have forced to cheer up, celebrate and love for the sake of Christmas - let alone the gift exchange.

Years later I might be physically not surrounded by my family, but thanks to modern technology, we force gather online and have a blast. I am delighted to spend my Christmases with wonderful, loving friends. We might not cook the 5 course dinner, but then again, we live in New York where time and space are limited, where gluten-free meatballs and fondue accompanied by many nice glasses of wine and 'all i want for christmas' on Pandora, followed by ice cream and 'Love actually' are synonym for a 5 course family dinner in Europe.

And when I arrived at my friend's apartment in lovely Stuyvesant Town, straight from the hospital with no makeup on and in my PJs from the morning, the most festive attire about me were my new winter boots and a bottle of wine. When I was welcomed at the entrance door with warm hugs and kisses by Jillian and Lidia, it was Love actually. Clearly it really is the thought that counts.

Mercy In The Sky

This is my story,

Once upon a time or two

We must have, first met, somewhere else

Familiar feelings

Made love intensely, could you be someone else?

Or my biggest cravings?

My tall heavy brick walls were to you paper thin

You're my favorite breastpin

I shut the door, thought I will keep you here

Forever and ever

You must be my blessing or my biggest curse

Where is the difference?

I didn't suffer from being cannonaded,

Bullets penetrated

My Love I never

Asked for your love

You push me back yet never let me go

Stop holding me, you should bestow

As if I, as if I could change that we're not one but two

As if I, as if I could change that we're not one but two

Love don't cry

Mercy in the sky

In my dreams

I painted shadow black the day we parted

All I kept

Were memories of how it started, how we started

My lips are tasteless dry

My love I never stopped to cry

Never asked you why

Never said goodbye

I never stopped to cry

I'm waiting for you, pick me up and fly

Wingless we will try to make it to the

Mercy in the sky

Lyrics written for Samira Dadashi

©Saman Giraud

Papi

Forever with Us - Forever with You

Special thanks to Alexo Wandael

Puzzle

More than 10 years have passed since I lost my Loved One to one of the two consequences of life - its ending. Some of them passed like a blink of an eye, too fast to notice, others dragged on like a dreadful disease with no cure known of but time and patience to soothe only the symptoms. And even now, more than 10 years later, I catch myself every now and then looking for bits and pieces of him within others who are still alive and amongst the world I live in.

Knowing I would never find him in one piece here again, I started a never-ending puzzle called Dad.

The stranger who walked into the restaurant had his soft shiny forehead with the profound forehead rows, the cab driver had his all-knowing, humble and innocent gaze that for some reason always reminded me of Bambi, my uncle had his deep voice with the lovely scratch right where it belonged, my friend had his shaving brush, its handle made of hematite and Sephora had his perfume, a smell I could hardly describe...

I carefully chose and collected all those pieces over the past decade, handpicked each of them like flowers, held them as strong as I could and replaced in time some by other, more accurate ones, to create a wonderful bouquet.

I wanted to create a new photograph, the best I could possibly create, of my Loved One, dated with the present, of one who since long ago belonged to the past. And each bittersweet time when I met a new piece of him, each time when I thought I had just collected another piece of the puzzle called Dad, I was reminded that none of those pieces would ever belong to me or come to life. There were merely borrowed for a blink of an eye yet my eyes stole their glimpse forever.

A friend of mine once said that the yearning for the one you love and lost would never diminish and certainly not disappear. He was right.

I must miss my Dad every day because every now and then the snowballs that I would shape of an insatiable longing for him and that I would gently throw behind my back, on my way to nowhere, would turn into an invisible avalanche suddenly overwhelming me from behind and carrying me away... My only salvation in these moments is to melt the avalanche from the inside in order to break free which turns all the snow into all the tears I have, streaming down my face, as rapid and uncontrollable as only an avalanche can be. My heart shrinks to a size beyond my imagination and breathing is nearly impossible. Crushed by the heavy pain and trying to hold myself, the pressure in my head rises and causes a terrible headache. It is the wind that forces itself through my open mouth into my lungs, grabbing the space it is entitled to, that makes me breathe again.

No matter where I am, in my head I start running home as quickly as I can and on my way I think of all the things I possess. I go through every item, every purchase, every piece of paper or fabric. All I need is one thing that was his, one thing that can soothe my pain and save me - for now.

Back at home, in the house we used to live together, I used to run to the bathroom and smell his shaving brush, I would snuggle his sweater or lay my head on his favorite pillow - inhale as slowly and deeply as I could and exhale only as little as necessary...But time carries away not only the people, but also their smells.

In my new home there is no trace of his existence simply because he didn't move in with me. He was not even granted a visit because Life said so and Life didn't grant me an objection. There is nothing left to smell, nothing to touch.

When I reach the peak of my desperation it hits me out of nowhere and I suddenly remember that there will always be one thing that will be with me as long as I live - at all times and at all places:

I would always have my reflection in the mirror. I would stand there, drenched in tears, my eyes burning, red and swollen, giving my best to force my eyes to open and take a good close look at myself because somewhere there, in my reflection, must be a piece of him. A piece that I could not only see, but also touch. A piece that was alive, here and now. One that not even time, the best thief of all, could steal from me and no blow of destiny could ever separate from me.

He was truly a marvelous man and it took me all those years to understand that I would not need or find more words or better words to describe him in order to paint the picture that would do his soul justice. All I needed to do is to describe my longing for him.

I am the daughter of a father who would have given her life to save his.

More than 10 years have passed and this never changed.

Aristophenes

Who would have thought that a man who was known as the Father of Comedy was one of seven people who came to word in Platos Symposium to talk about the importance and power of Love...

...In the beginning the world was populated by humans with doubled bodies. They were completed, fulfilled - a happy whole. Some were all male- they were the children of the Sun. Some were all women - the children of the Earth and some were half man and half woman, called the androgynous and children of the Moon.

One day, for a mysterious reason, they decided to scale heaven and to overturn the Gods of the Olympus. The Gods were in rage and Zeus even wanted to bereave them of life with thunderbolts. Which he, after careful consideration, omit to do as by killing a complete soul he would also kill his very own worshipers. Instead, he chose to torture them, cripple them by ripping their bodies in half and seperate them. Apollo was chosen to heal their wounds, to stitch them and to shape their new bodies.

Ever since this moment each half was longing for his other half, each one looking for the fulfillment they used to know. It was the beginning of a quest for Love, Friendship and Erotic - the greatest possible happiness a human being could acquire.

Moses by Coldplay

Come on now, don´t you want to see

This thing that´s happening to me

Like Moses has power over sea

So you´ve got power over me

Come on now, don´t you want to know

You´re a refuge somewhere I can go

And you´re air that, air that I can breathe

You´re my golden opportunity

And oh, oh yes I would

If I only could

And you know I would

And baby I,

I wish

Come on now, don´t you want to see

Just what a difference you´ve made in me

I´ll be waiting no matter what you say

And I keep waiting for days , days , days

And oh, oh yes I would

If I only could

And you know I would

And baby I ,

I wish

If the sky´s gonna fall down, let it fall on me

If you´re gonna break down, you can break on me

If the sky´s gonna fall down, let it fall on me

If it´s gonna rain down, it can rain on me

Love Weather

It might happen rarely, but it still does: we fall for someone and we fall deeply and truly. If we are lucky, the person feels the same way and falls for us too.

In a wonderful private place like that, where two people can create and share their very same deep feelings for each other, not only can it happen but it sooner or later will, that this little yet powerful place gets disturbed by misunderstandings or simply by a harsh world by which it is surrounded. In moments like this we can either run or stay. If we choose to run, where are we running to? Seeing it from a long term point of view, we probably will run into the arms of the next person with whom we will create another little peaceful place - a forest of love. We start all over again, hoping that the sky will always be clear and the weather always sunny. But even in the sunniest spots on earth: if there are no clouds over our heads, earthquakes will shake our feet...

And if we choose to stay? How long are we willing or should we stay until the storms are over? The regular weather channel is often wrong with its prognosis - and a love weather channel doesn´t exist for one good reason: it is as unpredictable as the weather itself. A wise person once asked: when is it enough? And he himself answered: never.

If we choose to stay we need to look at each other again. And the truth is that we look different everyday. And if we run, we simply look away.

If we stay, we try to stay in a little world that is changing constantly just like the bigger one by which it is surrounded. With every new morning we get a new chance to choose to look closer at each other and fall for each other again or walk away until the other person becomes blurry and disappears.

The truth is that if we don´t look at each other closely, we do not see each other at all. And how can we run from each other if we don´t know what we are running away from?

Lists

It all started in our childhoods with a seemingly innocent wishlist for Christmas. Growing up we overcame the legend of Santa more or less successfully and switched to the simple, easy to fulfill, grocery list. Both lists proved themselves as so useful that we created the famous to-do list which was soon to be followed by the sex-list and turned into the my-perfect-man list. Somehow it seemed we ended up right back where we started, addressing our lists to the very same person: Mr.Santa himself. Not a very reliable man, considering the fact that he works one day a year...

The "my-perfect-man list" can be anywhere between 3 words or 3000 words long and its single purpose is to describe HIM in order to let ourselves know what we are looking for, what it is we think we need and, last but not least, what we want in a man.

One of my girlfriends described this list as a female computer program that we install in our heads in order to successfully download a very special file. The better the program, the less chances of getting a virus. In order to settle, we need to swap from Windows to Mac.

This very same girlfriend used to have so far the most extended version of mpm (my perfect man) list I´ve ever seen in my life: very detail orientated, with rows and columns, categories like sports, religion, views on family, relation with close family etc...going all the way to sexual behavior, job, eye colour and even body hair quota and location.

Not a single category was left out. Everything was perfectly planned.

My friend indeed found her perfect man who was everything she thought she was looking for - her list only approved her decision: check, check, check. Barbie and Ken had finally found each other and it was pink all over.

Ken never left his soon to be ex-wife, whereas Barbie had not only her luggage packed but also her flight booked. Barbie was ready to go. Ken too - but unfortunately away from her.

I am still wondering what caused their break up. Did she left out a column on her list? I wish I could ask her about her own thoughts but Barbie left and the pink vanished while I am still here with the list I started a year ago and that I never ended....

There are things we know we need and others we know we don´t want. Very easy compared to the mpm list. For example: I know I need fresh cut flowers every now and then and I don´t want a liar. Everything else is in a grey zone and subject to change. Maybe we should leave it like that because maybe this grey zone is the only reason why there are still realtionships out there. Because maybe this grey zone is what compromising means: settling for something we don´t really care about.

I do, I don´t or I don´t know

A young, handsome, italian man who is a regular at a lovely pink restaurant on the upper east side came for his usual espresso one morning. Until this day we had only exchanged the regular "hi & bye". This day I asked him how he was and he replied that he´s sad. I didn´t have much time to wonder about how we jumped from being professionally polite to being friendly intimate. But hearing him saying that, made me not only feel for him but also ask him immediately and without hesitation the ultimate question: why?

Today his girlfriend, that he loves, had broken up with him after two years of relationship. He had asked her to marry him. I didn´t quite know what came first: the break up part or the marriage but figured the question was as old and relevant as "the chicken or the egg" dilemma.

He showed me his hand where a missing ring was, at least to me, her answer. He was asking me for advice and me, being aware of the delicacy of such a situation, decided to ask him a question instead of giving him my answer.

She had not say yes, neither no. But to a question as clear as this one, isn´t everything but a clear and loud non hesitating yes, a clear and loud no?

A marriage , the institution that in the best case lasts a lifetime, raises fear in many people. What we all have in common is that we unconsciously know that it is easy to step in, hard to step out and that the hardest thing above all is to maintain it.

A clear yes is the fundament on which a marriage is built and the best chance to a possible "happily ever after". A hesitation is no fundament - even Sleeping Beauty, who had just woken up after a 100 years of sleep, was not sleepy at all when it came to answering this question.

Are we so desperately wanting to get married that we are willing to spend the rest of our lives with a person who simply doesn´t know? And can we ask from one to be faithful forever if this very same person shows us she cannot remain true to herself?

Running

There was a time where people were running away when they felt fear in a possible life threatening situation. Scientists call it instinct. In our world today life threatening situations almost extinguished. But humans wouldn´t be humans if they wouldn´t find a replacement to re-excite life and come up with new so called life threatening situations to run away from... It wouldn´t be fair to our ancestors to call it the same though. I am wondering what a scientist would call it...People truly run, sometimes even sprint, from a touch, from the nearness of another one, and from themselves. But who would admit it?

Fear used to be initiated by an external event and today more than ever we are carrying it deep inside of us.

Men run away and hide when they have issues with women or with themselves. Whatever their issues are made of, we as women will never know. As a woman, you can do whatever you want to seek after a man. But well trained they are and masters of the game. No calls, no responses, no text, no email. Disappear into thin air. It really takes a master to be able to vanish in times where you have endless possibilities to communicate. This is not the old fashioned hide and seek game, but the modern egoistic version called hide and nothing.

Ladies: let them be. If there is a will, there is a way. If a man decides to disappear, he will. And if he decides to be visible and real, he will. Until then we can only hope that one day we will bump into a real man who is able to see us. Because if he is able to see us, he will love us, and if he truly does, he would want us to see him too and love him too. A man who chooses romance over nonsense. Romance at least takes you somewhere, while nonsense makes you go in circles.

The world turned upside down: in moments of endless fear we used to run towards those we loved to either feel safe in their presence or to hold hands and run away together. Today we run away from those we love - and we run alone.