There are no words to describe how I love the Mma Ramotswe stories. I hope Alexander McCall Smith will live forever and keeps writing them till the end of time.
(Okay, so this sounds pretty tactless but I don’t even mind).
Ljubljana is a city for street artists (and for everybody who wants to publicly express their feelings and wishes them to stay permanently expressed). Lots of the graffiti works are just some scribbles on some walls…
…but very often they carry important philosophical messages.
They blend into the cityscape…
…or stick out of it.
You can find them at unexpected places, too.
Sometimes they display personal political views…
…and offer practical advice on how to survive in our society without getting hurt.
A wake-up call for the nation…
…to prevent an impending biological disaster.
Sometimes it’s about gastronomy (Ljubljana street artists seem to have developed a healthy obsession towards donuts)…
… or important culture references.
An artist’s manifesto…
…and the confessions of a misanthrope.
Sometimes it’s a call for self-love…
…and sometimes it’s thoughts on loving somebody else.
Is this meant as the evidence for praiseworthy family feelings or is it a confession about having necrophiliac tendencies? I really can’t tell.
Sometimes the artists are eager to create a portrait of the loved one…
…and sometimes it’s just about them giving some general life advice…
… or an unasked for personal info on the family physician’s love life.
Most of the graffiti are pictures of cute (even if somewhat creepy and often really distorted) animals, though.
This is my 1000th post and it is just too appropriate for it to be about books. Or shall I say ironical? Because that’s what remained of my intellectual life: a monthly photo of (more or less) crappy books. But! I’m on my way to a change. It’s about time; depression took almost three years of my brain this time. It seems that every time it hits it takes me more time to recover than it previously did. Quite depressing, isn’t it? But let’s not talk depression, let’s talk travel!
Although I totally love playing with quotes (like, reading Victorian poetry for the purpose of finding fitting blog titles, haha), I hate “inspirational” quotes on blogs (or, anywhere). The kind I hate the most are the motivational ones, usually from an “unknown” source*, that seem to rule tumblr nowadays, and that command people to do things, like “Get up early!** Watch the sun rising with a cup of tea in your hands! Take a walk! Enjoy your life! You only live once! Love yourself (kiddo)!”
So I will post an uninspirational quote to balance all the inspirational ones on the internet out. And because I’m so
hip meta tumblr-worthy unoriginal that I read books on travelling while actually travelling, it’s a quote from the short story Big Trip to Europe by Jack Kerouac, from the collection Lonesome Traveler. It isn’t featured on the photo because I haven’t finished it yet.***
* I suspect these Unknown Sources to be the bloggers themselves, usually not a day older than twenty, that would like to pass as wise pioneers from the woods
** I never got behind the mystic of getting up early. If we believe the Unknown Sources, it helps you become a Better You. Unfortunately, while I get up fairly early almost every day (because I have to), all I noticed is that it makes me grumpy. And a Grumpy Me is definitely not a Better Me. I would sell my soul for a life
without shift work where I can sleep as long as my circadian rhythm desires
*** spontaneous prose may be extremely quick and easy to write, but it’s also extremely exhausting to read
So after all the footnotes and stars let’s have the honest opinion on travelling of the greatest traveller of the twentieth century literature:
“Of course world travel isnt as good as it seems, it’s only after you’ve come back from all the heat and horror that you forget to get bugged and remember the weird scenes you saw.”