Anti-stress therapy

Stressed at work?
Having to deal with an overdemanding boss?
Working with difficult colleagues?

Play the cubicle freakout, by Mark Burvill.

http://www.eyegas.com/cubiclefreakout/

Clic on the link. Let some steam off. You’ll even laugh.

And remember: the weekend is just around the corner.

Cheers.

Stealing for nothing

I took the paperweight in my hands and the shop assistant said:

- It’s pure glass from space made art, madam. It was hidden in the inside of a meteorite that fell into the Sea of Japan five hundred years ago. –he said-

There he went again with his cock and bull stories. That big fibber could have very well thrown away the ‘Made in South Sandwich’ sticker just a minute before. His marketing skills were beyond question.

- Indeed, it’s very beautiful. And the origins are amazing. –I said, overdoing and pretending to believe all that load of baloney-
- Are you looking for a gift, perhaps? –he asked-
- Yes, tomorrow is Valentine’s Day.
- May I ask whether the gift adressee is a man or a woman?
- Yes, you may. It's a man.
- How old is he? ... If you allow me the question.

No doubt the shop assistant had learned several taylor made speeches by heart, so that he could give them systematically to his different customers, depending on their age, sex or social status. And I had heard these same words before. Obviously, he didn’t remember me.

- He's forty-five. –I answered-
- Oh what a nice age. Right in the prime of life. May I ask what his profession is? -he asked smiling-

Grr... Mr. Shop Person was giving me the third degree again, using identical words.

- No, you may not. And I’d like that damned paperweight perfectly gift wrapped. –I said, very annoyed-
- It’s an excellent choice, madam. And it’s not expensive at all. –he said, paying no notice to my extremely rude remark-
- How much does it cost? –I asked, a bit concerned-
- Considering the material quality, the beautiful handicraft made by an anonymous Italian painter of the sixteenth century, and the unique lively exotic movement of the fishes… it’s a real bargain, madam: Only one million G.

Jeez, everything costed one million G at Breuninger’s! How could it possibly happen? I simply couldn’t afford that! I was pissed off. I looked at Hellgirl from the corner of my eye. She got my desperate message and started casting the old mesmerising spell on the shop assistant, as she snapped her fingers in his face.

- Oh shut your trap, will you? Now look into my eyes: when I snap my fingers you will be sound asleep. When I touch your shoulder you will wake up and not remember anything. One, two, three... you're under! –she said, as he stared into her beautiful glowing red eyes-.

The shop assistant fell into a profound lethargic trance.

- You heard it, big twat: Missy wants to have her gift nicely wrapped as a Valentine Day’s gift, so move yer ass. NOW. –said Hellgirl-

He shuffled along like a zombie towards the back shop, grabbing the paperweight with both hands. He polished it, wrapped it and put it in a beautiful bag. Then, he walked towards me, and whispered submissively: ‘Your purchase, madam’. I took the bag. Hellgirl touched his shoulder to wake him up; he scratched his head and looked confused; then she pulled my arm and we quickly walked outside, pretending nothing had happened.

- Hellgirl, I don’t feel good doing this. Poor guy. It’s the second time we rob him. –I said-
- Fuck him! He was going to steal your money, just like when we first came here! The end justifies the means, Leni.
- Not always, Hellgirl.
- Most times.
- Ok, sometimes.

I sighed. When I was little, I was told that stealing is wrong. But I must admit that I often practice that Machiavellic maxim: The end justifies the means. The results were that I had been a decent person until I started a kleptomaniac partnership with a devil woman and we were striking once again, after our successful Christmas robbery.

- Well, thanks anyway. –I said to her-
- That sounds a lot better, Leni. I hope Ed likes it!

And just as sudden as she arrived, she left with a snap of her fingers.

I went back home with the stolen paperweigh. I couldn’t sleep a wink that night. I was happy and excited as a child on Christmas Eve. The morning after I phoned Ed.

- Hi Ed, and happy Valentine’s Day! -I said-

There was silence.

- Same to you, sweety, though I think it’s… overdone, maybe sickly sweet and kind of cheesy, don’t you think?
- Ehm… -I grimaced, as I started to think I had screwed up-.
- No?
- No.

There was a bigger silence.

- Oh, don’t tell me you had bought me a gift.
- … -I sighed with embarrasment-
- Oh my god, you did. What can I say… I’m sorry for what I've said, Leni. I didn’t mean to be unkind, but I hadn’t bought you anything. I never celebrate V-Day. It’s so commercialised. I’m again in Orsinia, on a business trip, but I’m flying back to Sandwich tomorrow and I’ll send you the biggest bunch of red roses I can find.
- It’s ok, Ed. I didn’t expect anything, so no worries.

I put the cell phone down, uncomplaining and sighed. What a huge bucket of cold water thrown on my face. I was a bit disappointed, but I didn’t want to focus my rage on him. He was busy, after all.

I had to find a way to stop my enthusiasm; cool down; slow down before I went haywire; do my best to stop being so childishly eager and vulnerable; perhaps grow up; but more than anything, as Hellgirl always recommended, I had to learn to expect nothing and live with all these little things that were killing me.

So I tried to blank my mind without much success; I put my nightie on and summoned Hellgirl. It could be fun to meet her again. She appeared on the spot, hanging from my living room ceiling lamp, swinging back and forth like a trapeze artist.

- Did you get your V-Day gift? –I asked her-
- Yeah. Look. –she said, showing me a huge pink dildo-
- Oh, how nice. Just in case you missed him.
- Eek. I didn’t want any gift, so I kicked his ass. What about you? Did you get anything from Ed?
- Nah. I got nothing. He forgot. Actually, he doesn’t celebrate Valentine’s Day. And I couldn’t even kick his ass, 'cause he is in Orsinia. –I said-

Hellgirl softly landed on the ground, put the dildo on the table and sat beside me on the sofa.

- So you see, Hellgirl, life is so unfair; I would have loved so much to be in your shoes tonight; but the rich get rich and the poor get poorer. –I said, sadly-

- My dear Leni, listen: Here you have the living proof that Princes Charming and Knights on White Chargers do not exist. Believe me: when they are sure you are theirs, they turn into ordinary men who scratch their private parts in public, wear spaghetti-strap tank top, pick their nose, fart, burp and snore all night. But don't let it bring you down. It happens all the time. Love is such a beautiful thing, isn’t it?

I laughed loud.

- It’s true! Remember what my mom used to say: "Keep a man satisfied, and that will be the end of your romance; keep his heart struggling and he will follow you like a lost child". That's an unquestionable truth. Take careful note of that.

She almost convinced me, but I was reluctant to accept such a cruel best case scenario.

- Do you want me to send him a bad diarrhea? Endless nights coughing? Itchy armpits? Lice? – she asked-
- Come on, no! He just forgot, I'm not claiming for revenge, he really doesn’t deserve that!
- How unfortunate! You’re a bit of a softy, Leni. Ed should get his comeuppance someday. What are you gonna do with the paperweight, hon?
- Hurl it against the wall.
- Don’t. You may regret it: you told him you had something for him.

After a short silence, I had this idea:

- Listen Hellgirl, let’s forget about this day. I’m gonna make you an offer you can’t refuse: What about having a snack while we see the last episode of ‘Lost’ on the TV? I think Sawyer will be running half naked all over the island, showing off his hairless chest. He has muscles all over.
- Sounds cool. It will be funny to see a gorgeous ape man for a change. I’m fed up with Satanic movies about vampires, zombies, werewolves, ghosts, witches and other freaks. Really, we’re more normal in the underworld than humans think.

We laid down on the sofa; put our feet on the table; laughed our heads off; ate compulsively all kinds of crappy snacks and candy; drank some red wine; cheered and applauded Sawyer the cutie pie every time he made appearance on the TV.

And this is how Hellgirl and I, dissapointed for opposite reasons, celebrated this year’s Valentine’s Day. I could let some steam off, unburdened myself and got it off my chest.

When she left, I took a marker and crossed out the 14th February from the calendar in a fit of rage, until that date could not be seen. I promised myself not to drop a single tear and to stop stealing for nothing.

I wished I could make a stone of my heart, but it couldn't be possible.

I still believe firmly in the magic of anniversaries, bubble baths, pillow fights, foot massages and other little stuffs that may help romance last longer in a healthy relationship.

Or perhaps am I sickly sweet?

This is what I listen to lately when I feel blue; this song will revive anyone.

Tango

Life is like tango: difficult enough.
Sexy. Complex. Blue. Suggestive. Sensual. Desperate.
Any other ideas on how to keep dancing?

Details, whether you like them or not

Do you believe in the magic of anniversaries, bubble baths, pillow fights, foot massages and Valentine’s Day? They say the devil is in the details, but I firmly think that some of these little stuffs may help romance last longer in a healthy relationship.

I was lost in these thoughts last Friday afternoon -Valentine Day’s Eve- as I walked downtown. It was Friday 13th, but that doesn’t affect Sandwichians: we celebrate it by walking underneath a ladder. So I lazily stopped to have a look at Breuninger’s storefront, when I heard these vehement words behind me:

- Shopping for chocolates in the shape of a heart? If my boyfriend ever gave me a present like that, I’d leave him on the spot!

I turned back. I recognised that voice immediately: it was my good friend Hellgirl. She was gorgeous; radiating; dressed in red; wearing her super tight shiny outfit. She had folded her red wings and hidden her long tail, appearing publicly in the shape of an attractive human young woman.

- Do you really have a boyfriend? –I asked her-
- Of course I do. And in my evil opinion, V-Day is a terribly corny human tradition. Are you thinking of buying something for Ed here? Or rather stealing it, like we did in Christmas? I’d love to do that, it was so exciting! –she answered-.
- Oh no, please, don’t fiddle with that. I’ll pay with my credit card.
- But they always cheat you here! It’s no crime to steal from a thief!
- Hellgirl, I’ve come to buy a Valentine’s Day present for Ed, and I’ll pay for it.
- Come on, wake up and smell the coffee, Leni: Valentine’s Day is an invention of the Chamber of Commerce. And I bet your Ed is not exactly crazy about it.

Her last comment made me very upset, but I ignored it, in order to avoid a fight. She could be right, though I knew I would get to him emotionally with a present, and I had the secret hope that he would like it.

- Do you think it’s better not to buy him anything? –I asked-.
- I didn’t mean that, Leni. Now that you’re head over heels in love with him, you have no choice but to follow your heart. And I can help you get him the most amazing present he could ever imagine. But don’t come back to me with your heart torn to pieces if he gives you just a cheap box of candy or even forgets what day it is.

Whether she was implying that Ed was tight fisted or simply careless, I don’t know, but that piece of advice sounded rather strange to me.

Was he a rich stingy man? In all honesty, I didn’t know. But I never complained so far. As for oblivion or absentmindedness… that was simply no excuse. It was impossible not to notice: Valentine’s Day was repetitively on the TV; in the papers; in the shop windows and billboard's advertisings.

- Ok, let’s change the subject of this conversation. First and foremost: Happy New Year. Believe it or not, I’m glad to see you again. And last but not least, is it my imagination or did I hear you have a boyfriend?
- Thanks and Happy New Year to you too, Leni. Yes, I do have a boyfriend. –she smiled, proudly-
- Hey, that’s excellent news, I hope. –I smiled back at her-.
- Yes, indeed.
- Congrats!
- I’m so happy. I want to have a hundred and sixty devil babies with him.
- I didn’t know devil women had devil babies. –I said, quite surprised-
- Just like human women have human babies! –she said, raising an eyebrow-
- And you make them the same way humans do? –I asked-
- Exactly the same –she answered-

Wow, that was new! Hellgirl in love.

- May I ask you if you who’s the lucky guy?
- Mmm… yes, you may. Have you ever heard about Mephist the Great?

I had read about Mephistopheles the Great’s military exploits in Goethe’s Faust legend, where he wagered with God for the soul of Faust. But I’m so naïve that I thought she would come up with some kind of joke, like Hellboy, the movie hero from Hell. Then I realised that she had higher aspirations. And I thought I'd love to hear it from her.

- Tell me, who is he? –I asked-
- He’s a real Prince of Darkness; an angel of hostility and lust; the hottest and most powerful devil in Hell. –she said, very proud of her conquest-

‘So now I really have good contacts with the underworld’ –I thought-.

- It seems he’s a real catch. Are you happy with him?
- Actually, Leni, if I were human I’d say I’m floating on a cotton cloud, but as a devil’s minion all I can say is that I’m burning with hellish passion.
- Congrats! I’m very glad for you!

After a friendly double cheek kiss, we crossed the impressive revolving glass doors of the Breuninger House and entered the shop. They had the most amazing stuff you could ever imagine. The Royal Arms were displayed at the entrance, under the caption ‘By appointment of His Majesty the King of Sandwich’.

The showroom had a magic and mysterious atmosphere. Some little treasures I had already seen during my Christmas visit were still there. But this time I knew exactly what I wanted: I remembered Ed had some paintings of his private art collection hanging from the walls of his office: Braque’s 'La bibliothèque est en feu' and Matisse’s ‘Les oiseaux’ .

I had spotted an amazing object in a showcase that would perfectly fit in that scenery: a delicate paperweight made of glass where several blue fishes and a red one, smaller than the rest, were swimming: the blue ones, in harmony and peace; the red one, hectically and teasing the others all the time. I stopped to have a look at the funny scene when the shop assistant approached me.

To be continued…



'Shh' (Donora) - Video from Postsecret

Quiz

Clever people from the blogsphere... how many celebrities can you spot in this painting?

I've been told that if you're able to identify more than 20, it means you're an educated, learned, cultured person. I loved this little game, so now I challenge you:

Clic on the pic, recognise them, count them all and come back to tell me.

The asteroid and the small blue planet

I left Ed’s house as soon as I recovered from my stress episode. That same day, the ghost driver took me home in his black Bentley and I went back to my usual routine. Neither trace of egocentric businessmen nor funny little ways: Big Cheese and colleagues acted as if nothing had ever happened.

I recovered my regular pattern of life and … it was hard. It was sad, too. Sad as the ghost of the melting snowflakes on the window glass; sad as the last minute of my sweet childish dreams, from which I had to wake up abruptly without having found my own paradise.

It was already tough and annoying to be back to normal mode in Dumbass. I was used to put up with the irritatingly demanding Big Cheese and Big Shot men; with all those old stick-in-the-muds who looked down on me; with the guys from the Unions taking snapshots of my car and tracing me all over the place; with my old story of suffering from loneliness and melancholy; but I was simply not used to go without Ed. And until that day, I never realised it would hurt like hell.

I e-mailed him the day I left, just to thank him for everything he did for me. I expected some kind of prompt reply, but he never answered.

Easily hurt, but not easily discouraged, I tried to reach him on his cell phone. My faith in him was strong as a rock, so I kept insisting. But he neither returned my calls nor the text messages I sent.

The feeling that things had certainly slowed down, rather cooled down between us since Christmas, had been going round and round in my head. And I soon started carrying that devastating feeling of rejection around in my stomach like a painful, heavy burden; too heavy for me.

I allowed some days, but I didn’t hear from him.

I dared phone his secretary –the hyperintelligent pandimensional shrew who hated me so much-. She said he was busy. She didn’t even bother to say she’d give him the message. Why would she.

I knew he was okay because that excruciatingly long week I saw his picture appear twice in the papers and my wild imagination immediately started creating all kinds of emotional disasters and betrayals.

I missed him madly. And what was worse, from my emotional reaction I realised I had completely fallen for him. But my irrational mind stubbornly refused to process that feeling. I was going insane, restless, nervous and hesitant.

After eight unbearable nights of quiet suffering, helplessly hoping, I totally lost it and decided to drive to his house. It was almost midnight, but the gates of his mansion were still open. I parked my car in the gardens. The ghost butler opened the door and greeted me before I even rang the doorbell.

- Good evening Ms Qinan, it’s nice to see you again. –he smiled-
- God evening, Stoicescu. Nice to see you too. Is Mr. Davies in? –I asked-
- Yes, Ms Qinan. Lord Davies has just arrived from a long trip. Please, follow me to the study. –he answered solemnly-
- No worries, I know the way.

The butler bowed elegantly and left. Lord Davies, he said. For gawd’s sake. Yes, he was a real Lord: the title was bestowed on him by the king Clovis III (also known as ‘the King who lost Orsinia’). But as a plebeian working class princess, these aristocratic pedigree legends were really not my scene.

I walked to the study, and there he was, knee deep in work, writing under the faint light of a small lamp. He lifted his gaze from the papers and smiled at me.

- Oh, Leni… what a nice surprise! Come in, please. I’m just back from a business trip to Zantland. What brings you here so late, sweety? Is everything ok?

I ran to him and held him tight. The strain I had been standing during his absence seemed to vanish.

- Wow… this is what I call a warm welcome –he whispered, as he stroke my hair-
- This longing for you has made me very sad. Why didn’t you answer to my phone calls, e-mails and SMS? I hate you! –I said, holding him tighter-
- Aww… I’ve been very busy, love. I apologize for not being able to devote more time to you lately, but believe me, I simply couldn’t…
- I hate you – I protested weakly-
- You’re angry as a bag of wasps but you don’t hate me. –he said quietly-
- Yes I hate you! And I can’t get to sleep. –I said-

He laughed loudly. I expected he would prescribe me a sleeping pill or a hot glass of milk, but he gave me the most amazing answer instead:

- Then stay with me tonight, Leni. I know how to help you sleep and feel better. –he smiled at me- How does that grab you?
- I still hate you. –I said, still upset-
- Let’s make a deal, then, so that you can stop hating me.
- What deal?
- I’ll tell you a story. If I can make you smile, you stay with me tonight. Ok?
- Hm… don’t muddle me.
- I would never do that, silly. Just let me wipe that sorrow off your face. I can’t do with sad gals. I truly apologize.
- Ok. Go on.
- Let’s see… when I feel bluesy, just like you do now, I like to dream that I fly through the first warm winds in the early spring, when the sun rises and the morning fogs dissapear over the meadows. I could be a humble water drop too, flowing in a small river in the mountains, falling over the pebbles, sitting on a rock covered with moss and for a while after, falling on the ground. Sometimes I even dream I’m an asteroid. Oh have I ever told you the story of my happy encounter with a small blue planet?
- No –I answered -
- Hm... let me take my fountain pen and tell you the story.

He drew in the air a big shiny ball that grew in the shape of an asteroid; then, a group of small colourful planets at a considerable distance and said:

- Once upon a time, and a very good time it was, I was an asteroid in the endless width of the universe. I flew on my own for a million years. My life was a boring uninterrupted flow of energy and speed through the vault of heaven. Nothing ever happened to me. But a few million years ago, I saw a multicolour planetary system on my way. It was the first time that I could see something so wonderful since the Big Bang, when I was born. As you can imagine, I couldn’t resist the temptation. So I slightly changed my route and approached it. There was a bright yellow star in the middle of them –let’s call it ‘sun’- and some funny small balls –let’s call them ‘planets’- orbiting around it. As an asteroid, I had been observing these planets from afar and I desperately wanted to become a part of their harmonic movement and their peaceful cosmic dance.

He stoped for a while, as the heavenly bodies revolved around the sun and the asteroid approached them.

- I felt the irresistible desire to meet that system and become a part of it: that ignited the senses that gave a meaning to my long existence. So I brought my trajectory closer and spotted that lovely small blue planet. By the way, it was almost as blue as your shirt and your mood. So I quickly changed my flying path in the direction of that little beautiful blue sphere, that modified the orbit slightly, turning round to face me. That was certainly a good sign. I flew at incredible speed towards the little blue planet, feeling a strong and intense desire to reach it, and I realized that my efforts were successful: I hit that blue beauty, and we collided with the most genuine, warm feeling of happiness. There was an incredible release of energy in the firmament when that happened. Fireballs and shooting stars were propeled in all directions and a spray of shining lights filled the sky when the small blue planet and I reached our melting point.

As you can imagine, Ed's story brought a big smile to my face.

- Now Leni, the moral of the tale is this: everything is relative. That wonderful instant of happiness and burning passion was also the end of the dinosaurs; but that’s another story.

I couldn’t help but smile again, looking at him and at the wonderful motion picture displayed in the air showing repeatedly the shiny cosmic collision.

- And now that I can see this beautiful smile of yours, keep your promise and stay with me tonight –he said-


Of course, I kept my promise and stayed with him that night. We happily collided with the most genuine, warm feeling of happiness. There was an incredible release of energy when that happened. Fireballs and shooting stars were propeled in all directions and a spray of shining lights filled the room when we reached our melting point.

Some say happiness is,
a warm gun,
the greatest aim in life,
opium for the poor,
an ephemeral illusion,
the overexpression of hormones and neurotransmitters.

To me it's the wonderful feeling of loving and being loved. Especially after colliding with an asteroid.


Thanks to A. for sharing some of his wonderful ideas, which made possible this story.

About happiness

Yesterday night I received another challenge from my good friend Moonlover from Portugal, that adorable lady that challenges me from time to time in the nicest way possible. The challenge now is about happiness. Big word, eh?

Moon knows very well that I just love these little games, and coming from her… I just can’t say no.

So about happiness… would you like to hear the happy story of the asteroid and the small blue planet? Allow me a few days and it will be coming out real soon. ;)

In the meantime... just a beautiful quote from Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), the American anarchist writer:

“Happiness is like a butterfly: the more you chase it, the more it will elude you, but if you turn your attention to other things, it will come and sit softly on your shoulder…”

Who's afraid of flying?

After my ordeal with the Orsinian tycoon, his Head of Cabinet and their manic fits of rage and pride, I felt very disappointed; almost disenchanted. It’s amazing how some people’s childish super ego can grow to burst with imperial arrogance in the most typical Freudian fashion, making you feel from small to insignificant.

The roads were frozen outside and the streets were blanketed with ten inches of snow, so I decided to stay at Ed’s place. Besides, I felt floaty, lightheaded, and my stomach was starting to bother me. Soon the ground became spongy and I felt like I was going to fall. I flopped down on the sofa.

- Are you okay, Leni? –he asked-
- No. I’m dizzy and have a very upset tummy. –I answered-
- Lay down on the couch, please. I’m going to examine you.

Jeez, I forgot he had been one of the best physicians in Burdishland in his previous life! But that happened in the 17th century, so I asked myself what kind of examination was this going to be. Go figure! Actually… he had already examined me and explored my body as he pleased several times before, but not exactly for medical purposes.

To my surprise, he opened what appeared to be a doctor’s bag –like those that doctors of yesteryear carried on house calls- and took a stethoscope and a digital tensiometer out of it. He helped me undo my shirt very professionally, and checked my blood pressure. I was puzzled: they had none of these systems during the Age of Reason in Burdishland, but he seemed to have taken a refresher course in modern medicine.

- Your blood pressure is within the limits, Leni, but very much on the borderline. Let me auscultate you, please –he said, looking serious-

I removed my shirt and he carefully listened to my chest.

- You have a rapid heartbeat. Has it always been like this?
- Yes.
- And you say your stomach is upset.
- Yes. It started this morning. It comes and goes. Over here –I pointed where it bothered-
- Excuse me for such a silly question but, do you think you’re pregnant? –he asked, shyly-
- No, I’m not. –I answered, in a whisper-

He stopped and sighed deep.

- Then… you know what I think, sweety? –he asked, removing his stethoscope-.
- No, tell me. –I answered, intrigued-.
- I think that your life is full of hassles, deadlines, frustrations, and demands. I think that you put a lot of pressure on yourself with your writing and your hard working, and this is the result.
- I’m happy with my writing. It doesn’t stress me. Quite the contrary. –I said, a little bit offended-
- But you don’t get enough sleep. You write several hours every night after a long working day.

I sighed, very annoyed.

- It's ok Leni, I won’t say anything about the writing, because I know you like it and it's important for you; but I‘m concerned about you. I feel responsible for your health. You need to allow some private time for yourself, even if it’s just sitting on a bench in the sun, watching the people pass by. I do this from time to time: I lay down in my room, close my eyes and then escape to one of my favourite fantasy worlds: a desert lighthouse in Doom Rock, where I have been many years ago. I remember the sound of the waves crashing all night long against the cliffs; the feeling of safety and warmth within the lighthouse’s big round wall. I sometimes dream of an unnamed beach in a tropical country, where I once swam when I was young. I remember dropping pebbles in the water. Just a splash and they were gone, moving with the waves making a most peculiar sound; I also dream of a lonely small chapel at the steep coast of North Burdishland, where I wrapped myself in a warm blanket and felt instant warmth and comfort. I slept there one night, during a long pilgrimage along the coast. All these reveries give me a feeling of deep peace and satisfaction and help me recover my mind, body and soul quickly. What is your trick when you need to calm down, honey?

I looked down. I had such a hectic life and little time for myself. I had neither personal paradises nor places that I could remember as my favorite worlds of fantasy. I wish I had, but I hadn't travelled around that much, so I simply could not recreate in my memory those beautiful gardens of Eden.

Whenever I wanted to escape, relax and forget about my troubles… I simply wrote. Just with the help of my pen and my imagination I could travel to far away places, meet interesting people and live amazing stories. Not many circumstances could keep me away from writing. And if I ever failed that daily evening rendez-vous … then it meant something bad was happening to my soul.

- I have no tricks, Ed. –I had to admit-
- Then you need to find yourself one, love. Modern life is rubbish. Everybody is entitled to have a dream or a sanctuary to take shelter and find peace. It’s a self-defence and protection tool. Think of it.

I no longer had the strength to carry on with me, so I just nodded and smiled, weakly promising that I would.

- The butler will bring you a cup of warm tea now. That will help you soothe your stomach. And then you’ll have a tranquilizer.
- I don’t need one of these. –I said, pointing at the pill he was offering me-
- It’s not a drug, Leni, it’s just a soft medicine that will make you feel better.

The ghost butler brought a tray with a cup of steaming hot tea. I was feeling so bad that simply drank it and swallowed the downer without protesting.

Some minutes later I fell in a sweet state of drowsiness. I slowly leant over to Ed, until I ended up light sleeping, my cheek resting against his chest. The tension had melted away.

- Let’s make a fantasy for you, Leni. Have you ever wondered what it would be like to fly? I mean… not enclosed in an airplane... –he asked-
- Like a bird?
- Rather more like being carried into the sky by a giant balloon.
- No.
- You mean you’ve never imagined what it would be like to take a ride in a hot air balloon?

I shook my head. He started to talk in a steady, soothing, relaxing voice.

- That is one of the most peaceful experiences you could ever dream of. Up in the air you’re isolated and unreachable. There’s nothing there. Just the open sky. Nobody that can bother you. You can throw away your cellphone and pager; the keys to your car and house; your notepad; your pendrives; all the contents of your handbag. You don’t need anything there.

He took his magic fountain pen –the one I gave him for Christmas- and draw a big circle in the air. The circle grew hugely, finally becoming a giant red balloon that filled the room up to the high ceilings. He gently took my hand and we jumped into the large wicker basket.

What happened then, I still don’t know if it was real or was a mysteriously wonderful trick of my mind; but I do remember it as a perfect moment.

Nobody made sounds anywhere and it felt real warm in the basket. Suddenly the room disappeared. Ed fired the burner to reheat the air and the balloon started rising elegantly, slowly, drifting gracefully over the stunning landscape of the Sandwichian country all covered with snow. We were carried away by the wind from the mountains to the sea, over bridges, rivers, waterfalls and edges in the island.

- Have you ever floated like this through the sky, low as a cloud, free as a bird?
- No, never.
- Then enjoy this unique feeling of freedom; the air on your face…

I held him tight and forgot about my extreme fear of heights.

I forgot about my deepest sorrows.

All the bitterness vanished right away.

And when he kissed me, I felt safe and forgot about everything.

I simply felt alive.