Hail, Solidarity!
Heaven never helps the man who will not act.
-Sophocles
Vale!
Where the weather has shown its magnifience in turbulent transcience, we too can do the same. Routine in our lives is that imposing, self-made structure that chains us to a single path and never wants us to look back; and sometimes in the most inappropriate and unexpected ways, we break it down and start anew.
Jasmin and I quite literally became sick after only a few days of university, and through the healing power of a divine mutual nuturing, we are both in better health and spirits. This is no coincidence; there is a natural irony between “I am sick of uni work” and a feverish temperature that can be quenched by only savour from the deepest and coolest river of passion. For me, my daily spirit was found in a routine visit to buy groceries, which transformed into spring water, wholemeal pasta, fish fillets with roasted garlic and yoghurt so incredibly organic that the manufacturers felt the need to publicise the fact that even the cows themselves receieve homeopathic treatment.
Whether it be greeting and smiling upon your irascible landlord, treating your lecturer with the respect of your attendance on a day of record-breaking heat or the satisfaction of helping an elderly lady with her shopping bags (who, mind you, after observing me quite critically was still frightened I was going to run away with them), there’s a patented Magic Moment to be had in every box of SerialJoy.
So with a contented sigh and silent but deep appreciation of the wind that glides through my open windows, I hope there is a secret message you have read: routine is a dish best served in piecemeal, drenched with oils of opulence, dipped in delecatable delight and spoiled with special detours into the arms of a loved one.
-Ave!
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