Random Beauty

Nikole writes:As I tried to decide what to highlight in Vagabond this month I came across an article about boredom. Boredom was seen as an impetus to creativity. After all, how long can one sit around complaining about boredom, waiting for something to happen. Then there was the darker side -- the bored ones, often teenagers, may become violent, lashing out because life seems empty and pointless. I know that William returned often to that topic. In a few minutes I found this riddle/aphorism:

What becomes heavier when empty? -- Time.

But I was diverted. It's good to take a fork in the road, especially in the spring when robins are suddenly everywhere and the purple and yellow crocuses are braving the fresh chill air. And that's what happened -- while looking for William's words on boredom I found this sentence in the next chapter:

Visiting a flea market, I grasped the mystery of its charm: poetic chaos united by passion and random beauty.

"Passion and random beauty" --

So, boredom will be a topic for another day. I chose three quotes that simply paint a picture, describing something beautiful:

From "Magical Malta"
Malta doesn't have spectacular landscape; redoubts and architecture are its crags and hills, from megalithic prehistoric remnants to immense medieval fortifications. From the heights of citadels you're overwhelmed by the view below. When you're down you're 'smashed' by what you see above you. After the invaders' defeat, the Pope sent the best architects to rebuild Malta. A dream like beauty was created with human hands. The color of the stone is radiant cream. There are practically no ugly streets in Malta. I am a nature lover and still it didn't bother me that there was very little greenery along the streets. The beauty of Baudelaire's "stone flower" comes to mind. There is little rain so the Maltese are rather thrifty with water for plants.

From "Two Months in Poland"
I was astonished to find that I'd spent my childhood surrounded by so much beauty so unbelievably concentrated in a small space; the "Old City" district. I hadn't remembered that our house was under arcades, that I grew up so near the "Cloth House," the "Florian Gate" ... In Krakow you don't have to search for the landmarks. There, looking at any old building is an aesthetic experience. In this respect it is for me one of the most beautiful cities in the world. A long time ago I felt something similar in Edinburgh, a feeling now too remote to compare with my still fresh impressions of Krakow. But that's enough of superlatives about the Poland of stone, here to stay if History and environmental pollution will spare it. Time to switch to the Poland of flesh and blood and everyday matters.

From "Sic Transit"
We take the present mostly for granted as an eternal status quo unless things change instantly and dramatically. I cherished many small treasures until I realized that they would forever remain souvenirs .I loved, for example, the legendary -- for me legendary -- cider made in Normandy. The palette was infinite; barrels standing in great cellars, dark, clear, dry, sweet, sparkling, flat... People in the country defined their territory, by "how the cider is here." This lasted for centuries, seemingly forever.

And from "Extracts of Existence"
My way: a snake that runs toward nothingness leaving behind an imprint of beauty.

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