It feels like summer outside and a snowman is painted on the window.
Eclectic decoration a spectacle for the eyes, a cosmopolitan scenery, girls that feel the need to give the house in this time of year just a touch from their home bases. Where home is, is where the heart is, where feelings are, are are no boundaries, feel with senses so clear and honest, without hiding back.
Picking the day, their memories are going well along with white landscapes, snowy noses and cold freezing hands, like their mom, likely like me. Cold extensions. Warm hearted and in their feelings so courageous and honestly in the deep sides of their own hearts, by coming up with the ornaments of their childhood. In between countries, clashing cultures or challenging friendships. Who is who? Who thinks what feels like home and is comfortable and acts straight in his thoughts. Like being home, there where the heart is and the voice of your heart that argues twice.... will be in favorite of the spot where you were born or raised but spending your life out, far away in new countries. Within a land, today, where Christmas as such, isn't celebrated. So stand put, alone, vulnerable with yourself and your own perspective and let go into your dreams. On your own or with your love ones. Share with others, through your eyes and senses your experiences, believes, while you at the same moment get to know, through every season, most out of them about their land and roots. Confusing cultures, images, languages .
The girls get into the season by preparing cookies and cakes and it smells so good.
The kitchen is a battle field and books are every where. I like this, the autonomous kid making his plan and attached to his senses, his tastes. The food they know and remember through the years we lived in Europe. The food we shared. We adopted a lot and we were raised in different countries with a variety of backgrounds and languages. It feels good while the mystique of Morocco flews together with the dreams we share from our childhoods. I remember Christmas, I feel still the presence of my grand father in the house today. His cookbooks are out there. I see my allergy girl today with the eczema. I was afraid for it, that it would come out one of these days. And this morning after some sport activities it was just every where, it is not fair, it is annoying and I love her for the way she lives it with grace. The weather, a scarf that irritates the skin. The red inflamed spots in her face are the fine results of a climate that is instable. And yet so nice, while laying in the garden this afternoon, admiring the sun I felt so home again and loved Morocco. I do understand that Yves Saint Laurent and all those others artists, designers and authors came to this marvelous and secretarial country.