A letter of Condolences

My dear friend,
Thank you for your letter and my most sincere condolences for the loss of your friend.
All you say is very true and well, indeed.
As someone who’s tried it twice in the last year – and God only knows how the Hell I am still alive – well, what I wanted to say is that sometimes it’s just too much; and yes, someone could have tried harder; how could I do this to those who love me and I have responsibilities towards and all the rest but, in the end, it makes no difference because the truth is that, sometimes – please note that this is a daily struggle, often a few times a day too; a struggle with a life we don’t want to keep on living and the survival instinct that makes us say: “Maybe, tomorrow.” – it’s just too much and all we long for is the peace we know and remember being our true selves. And then it happens: an enormous calm enters one’s body and mind and without further ado one commits the act. No thoughts whatsoever, just an automatic response in an almost dream-like state.
I’m not going to add how the decision then happens for I don’t want to put ideas in anyone’s mind. I stop here.

Blessings to you all and to the ones you have lost.

 

Alcohol and Countries

In Turkey, mostly a Muslim country, they have restrained the time when one’s allowed to buy alcohol, regardless of the fact that 90% of people living there claim to have never had a drink in their lives.

In Toronto, Canada, I went to an Indian restaurant. I got in and the waitress asked me if I was thinking of having a drink with my meal. Dumbfounded, I asked why she wanted to know. She explained that I couldn’t sit in the Veranda if I was going to order a beer with my meal in order to avoid young people ~ passing by ~ seeing me having a good time and thinking they’d do the same once they’d be grown up.

If I wanted to have a beer with my Indian meal, I would have to sit where I was not facing the street.

In fact, in the whole city of Toronto, one can’t buy any sort of alcohol in supermarkets. One would have to go to a place on the outskirts of Toronto, marked XXX, where winos hang around; and one would need a car to get there.

I did manage to find a place near-by selling wine. I bought a bottle of San Giovese for $CAD 10,00.
The same bottle of wine costs me €1 at the local supermarket in Milan, Italy. You do the arithmetic.

Back to Milan, I went to the local supermarket and overheard fourteen-year-old kids talking on their mobiles to their school mates trying to decide what kind of booze to get for the end-of-school party: ” Okay then, a bottle of Vodka; some beer;  some Cranberry juice; Martini; Prosecco; Negroni and some Pineapple juice should do it, yeah?”

Go figure…