Happy Tuesday!
I hope all is well.
Okay so, I couldn’t think of what to put out today. There’s a lot going on in the world: from Banky W’s announcement to run for public office in Nigeria to Stan Lee’s passing, I couldn’t really decide.
For inspiration I went to my favorite author (Paulo Coelho)’s blog and stumble on the following story. I know someone who cannot stand salt, why do I feel this would validate said craze? LOL
I arrive in Madrid at eight o’clock in the morning. I will only be here a few hours, so it’s not worth phoning friends and arranging to see them. I decide to go for a walk alone in my favourite places, and I end up sitting smoking a cigarette on a bench in the Retiro Park.
‘You look miles away,’ says an old man, joining me on the bench.
‘Oh, I’m here,’ I say, ‘but I’m sitting on this same bench with a painter friend of mine, Anastasio Ranchal, 24 years ago in 1986. We are both watching my wife, Christina, who has had a bit too much to drink and is trying to dance the flamenco.’
‘Enjoy your memories,’ says the old man.
‘But don’t forget that memory is like salt: the right amount brings out the flavour in food, too much ruins it. If you live in the past all the time, you’ll find yourself with no present to remember.’
Thank you so much for reading! Enjoy the rest of your week.
Love always,
The Wawa-New Yorker
P.S. – If you have any topics that you’ll love me to bring up here on the blog, please drop them in the comments section. Don’t be shy. We are all in this together 😉
Hey wawa New Yorker,
Can we talk about relationships? What would you do if you found out a guy you liked put you in a friend zone?