Toronto. Ottawa. Tel Aviv.
As far as ‘hometown’s go, it can be said, without the slightest hints of an exaggeration, that there never was one town entirely mine, entirely my home. There were three. Lately these places have been plucking about my restlessness, the three towns that have made an impression. I’ve had them in mind lately, it is only natural. Packed my life up in a suitcase, like reading the last sentence in a book I couldn’t wait to put aside. Arriving I’ve unpacked alone and comforted myself in the bitter sweet smoke, which escaped from within, from inside.
Ottawa is not one of those three places. It is still strange and I handle it with utmost caution, while I take my time to get lost in the city’s cobwebs, spun of concrete walks and routes. Tracing back to Toronto, the one I’m in love with, I see it is a temptress and a liar. It lives and it breathes and it cheats. It is tempting to look at, tempting to paint, but every time I try to pen it down I am left disappointed. Perfect features make a plain portrait, so I look south of the pretty landscape, to its core, the center-ville. I find satisfaction in the disfigured buildings and dirt-stained dealings of the downtown crust. Now that’s a beautiful image, please pose for a snapshot. Thank you, you gave me all which you could.
Tel Aviv was the time of everything. It was the time of summer, learning and acquiring of scars. All of the first events steal their ‘tenses’ from that time. The city that never slept, if only out of the fear of closing its eyes. Where the words Hello and Peace bore the same meaning, if only out of the fear. Yet no one lived in terror, even if death was your neighbor and war, an everyday commodity. Oh, and the Bazaars of that country, but those were different places all together, not having much to do with the modern caress of Tel Aviv. The Israeli vibrancy and liveliness still quivers forth in memory as the finest, the brightest and truthfully the happiest.
I guess I write this, partly to calm my stress fueled uneasiness. I have high hopes for this new town, I hope to become better, more precise and able. I hope to grow and learn to think a little more than I feel. Also, I know that secretly I wish to find something true in this city. A true friend, a true mentor and a true love.
Toronto, not so sadly, have offered me a true friend and a true mentor. I accept them gratefully and I ask them to await my definite return with patience. As for the latter, I can only hope that sometime I’ll meet such a person, in whom there are sincere and unaffected words to find. From whom I’ll receive unburden some dealing. This person may even inspire me to “art”-iculate myself with pencil lines and big words : )
But most importantly. One must know how to make her smile.