It has always been a bit clishe for me if anyone tells you “follow your dream” and “dont let anything stop you”. You should not tell it to someone who has no means to support him/ her or even support his/ her family. Barely making ends meet. I mean. I have a lady with two kids whom I help with food, clothes and occasionally sending her money. Life has been hard on this little family. There is hope that this misery will end, but I can not help them endlessly. I say, move to different place where is more work possibilities. She doesnt. Of course change is hard. It always is. People tend to like routine, sure things, familiar surroundings, familiar people. She called for help now, in the beginning of month as she did not have any money for food as she was on sickleave for two weeks. So they had just 2 packs of rice and tea for next week. For two adults (older kid is 20 years old), and nine year old. They had been drinking tea for days already. I mean, its Europe, 21st century still? I sometimes think, just go and shake them a bit, get them out of the hellhole they live in where is no work, no future. Its dead end there. But to make it alone, I cant. I have my own life to live, I have no such income to endlessly support total strangers. I mean I know their names. We have met few times and we keep contact by modern means, Messenger. Other than that I feel pretty helpless. No matter what I say or offer, they are reluctant. And in the end of the day, its their lives, not mine. If they dont want to change then its their decision. No will, no change. 

For me has been easier. I never had anything familiar to hold on to when I was kid, or teenager. Similar “rootless” life also continued throughout young adult time. It felt always as I was outcast. I am probably. My far-far roots, my genes, come from nomads from African coast that is today Tunisia, through Malta and Italy to the coast of cold country. Its thousands of kilometres north they travelled to safety. Only to realise that the snow seem to never end :). They must have arrived in springtime or midsummer as they probably got fooled by nature, liked what they saw and stayed…… Snow ends, but still, genes do not change. I feel out of place here every now and then. Mostly in winter as there is so little daylight it wears people out. I survive on vacations on schoolholidays, somewhere warm and sunny. I feel home in Malta and Italy. Its a strange feeling when you cant fight your urge, your calling. For many years, when I was child, I thought I have been switched with gypsies. They travelled with their caravans stealing and selling stuff. Every now and then a white kid has been seen with them too. The story goes they traded “their cute brown-eyed dark boy with your cute blue-eyed blonde boy”. Whoever fell for this magical offer (probably alcohol infused idiots), never see their kid again, plus the gypsy-boy also dissappeared as he run away to his crowd mere hour later :). 

I have a dream to meet Johnny Depp and if all works out start a whole new life together with him. Thats a stupid dream, I know. There is literally no chance ever. But it keeps me going, even though I know it will never happen. I also know I have given myself a chance to meet him by going to his concert. And another chance is that blog that I keep here. There could be someone sharing this blog. Or he might accidentally find it himself. I saw very colourful dream again at night, starring again Johnny and myself. Its one of the rare dreams that you dont forget. Sunny day, lazy day, summer, lavendelfields, bees, I mixed colourful coctails. We are home. Our kids playing around. By the looks of it we are in France. Not bad! I have always liked lavendel, wine and anything from their kitchen, especially seafood. I remember Johnny laughing til tears. He was laughing so hard he could not take a breath already. Seems I again talked some jibberish messing up some words and it turned out so funny I myself fell over on the ground. While laying there on the grass, weeping from laughter, he kissed me. We made love right there and then. Slow, sweet, tender.  

Life is good. Why are the chances of my dreams to come true so small. Its not fair. I cant go and harrass Johnny in some hotels or follow him whereever he goes. I am not groupie. But then how to meet the man of my dreams? Haha, old fashioned writing then. In a modern way. I wonder, if ever, he actually checks his Instagram or Facebook or any other fancy means of communication.. Or is there hired person to do that. This hired person is my target then 🙂 

I would not mind living here with Johnny. You see, he would be my sunshine in wintertime. We would have a dream life really. Four seasons at their best. Slightly strange people in this small country, yet I feel 100% sure Johnny would feel safe here even without his bodyguards. As I wrote earlier the nature of our being is “we dont give a fuck”. Thats ofcourse a facade partly, but in general we actually do not care who is where when and why. Its difficult to explain. For example our President or PM or anyone really can just stroll along beach and nobody would even blink twice. Our first president after becoming independent rode bike around in town to go pick newspaper. Things like that. We dont have such strange fears or predjudice. 

I wish I could send the smells and tastes of today to Johnny. After some two weeks heatwave we now have buckets of rain pouring down. Every single flower is now blossoming. I didnt even know I have such flowers in my garden! I wonder if anywhere in US or Europe still is places where you can smell garden after rain. Or forest after rain. Or specific smell in August when you know, by smell, that the mushrooms are ready. I wish to show Johnny the wilderness here. Where everything is so compact, so safe, so free and so untouched. I wish he would come here and smell the daisies. With me. I am the best host ever. And the future VPA, very personal assistant. 

Dream big they say. I say, yes. I dream big. There is close to no chance that my dream will come true but I figure at least I have this blog. Which I will turn into a book when I am old. I am enjoying this already now. Its like keeping a diary. In secret. So far in secret, you only need to know its Mad Hatter. 

Johnny, stop by to smell the daisies!

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