Chapter 7
Episode 7trys spalvos paveikslo savy tarsi perlo savy spalva asaru ir druskos du Dbudizmo malachitas ir melu doalva savy paskal dintakses uzdariusi many savo asaras ir druska ir vienatve.tik trys spalvos nera kitu saules spalvu uola trys portugalija uola kur laukia koses melo pabaiga .
Three colors in the painting of myself, and I have been turning them over like a pearl in my palm for so long I cannot remember a time when they were not the whole of my landscape. Green. White. Blue. The malachite green of the Buddha I kept on the windowsill in Riga, the green of the stone that ground me down to dust before I understood what it was polishing. The white of salt, of tears dried on a face that learned to smile too early and too often. The blue of loneliness, not the sad blue of a winter sky but the blue of a vein beneath skin, the blue of something still alive and still hidden.
Tik trys spalvos. Only three colors. Not the whole spectrum of that sun I chased through all those years, not the red of anger I swallowed, not the gold of the false promises I believed, not the violet of the prayers I abandoned. Only three. Because three was all that was left after everything else had been stripped away, after the rose-tinted glasses shattered and the loom wove nothing but the pattern I had been weaving since childhood—the pattern of waiting, of enduring, of turning pain into something almost beautiful.
I thought of the pearl. How it forms around an irritant, around a grain of sand that enters the shell and cannot be expelled, and the creature simply covers it again and again with nacre, layer upon layer, until the wound becomes luminous. I have been doing that with my tears. With my salt. With my loneliness. I have been covering them in something shiny, something that looks like wisdom or peace, and calling it healing. But the pearl is still there. The wound is still there. It has only become beautiful enough that no one asks where it came from.
Keep reading "Episode 7trys spalvos paveikslo savy tarsi perlo savy spalva asaru ir druskos du Dbudizmo malachitas ir melu doalva savy paskal dintakses uzdariusi many savo asaras ir druska ir vienatve.tik trys spalvos nera kitu saules spalvu uola trys portugalija uola kur laukia koses melo pabaiga ."
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