I have been here before,
But when or how I cannot tell:
I know the grass beyond the door,
The sweet keen smell,
The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.
You have been mine before,—
How long ago I may not know:
But just when at that swallow's soar
Your neck turned so,
Some veil did fall,—I knew it all of yore.
Has this been thus before?
And shall not thus time's eddying flight
Still with our lives our love restore
In death's despite,
And day and night yield one delight once more?
(Sudden Light, Dante Gabriel Rossetti)
To be blunt and sentimental
I have been here before, I have done this another time, repeated the same gestures, pressed the same keys on the keyboard.
I have even written these words. The blog that I am starting today has been hunting me for a year now, with an intensity
that almost bothered my day-to-day repeated actions.
And then, when time came, I started thinking of its appearance as one thinks of the things that bring joy. What colors to use,
what words to write, what shape to give to all the incoming thoughts, all the unprocessed photos and all those travelled
and travelled once more roads. It then occurred to me that beauty is simple and repetitive, that we all see the same things,
albeit with different eyes and record them with different cameras. It is this beauty of repetition that has convinced me to start.