The virtual bar

I am in my virtual bar, surrounded by writers, photographers and travellers. There are barmen inventing wonderful virtual cocktails and music that simply surfs the background to the chatter. One minute I am chatting to a couple who live and work in Croatia, travelling with their young family. The next I'm sharing a bright green drink with an eco-warrior who writes for various blogs. Then I'm contemplating the use of the hyphen with a mother who has a penchant for steamy online fiction. After that, I'm discussing tapering with a runner from the west coast of the USA. After another couple of drinks I'm surrounded by teachers from around the world and it turns out students from Korea, France, Brazil, Malaysia all have the same problems learning English. Towards the end of the evening, I'm in a corner with a quiet, unassuming man who takes incredible photos - close ups of things which distort them so they look like abstract art. He needs persuading to show me. We end up closing the bar marvelling at his creativity.

I can't remember all these people's names, although they tell me. We share snippets and stories, we compliment and appreciate each other, we laugh nervous laughter because we don't know each other. We are not friends or colleagues. We are far apart and yet, here in this bar we are brought together by that magic something the virtual world provides: a beautiful, invisible thread. Be it poetry, parenthood, food, running; from the general to the very specific, there is something that draws these people to my virtual bar. There is a reason they are on my guest list, a reason they can be one click away, no matter the miles as the crow flies. They interest me, they entertain me, they teach me.

Sometimes, their thought and kindness reaches through the screen and touches me back in my real world. Their words go beyond the shining screen and enter my heart. The beautiful, invisible thread pulls my real, beating heart. That can be a very powerful thing. These people, merely visitors to my virtual bar, become more than a like or comment. By opening themselves up, they prise me open too. They are the people, who were it not for those miles, I would like to stand next to in a real bar and buy a real cocktail and have a real conversation.

But that's not possible. And so I just thank them for being able to pop into my virtual bar when they can and making it a better place. In this blinking online world where so much idiocy and awfulness reign, they are real beacons of light.

• This post was inspired by Tom MacInnes from Cobbie's World.
• It also links up with the writer folks over at Studio 30 Plus and their prompt of the week.

Flash fiction - Every Other Sunday

After a lovely week away touring the Black Forest in Germany (highly recommended) I am back to writing. It's all about punching out words of my novel for NaNoWriMo. Four days in and so far so good. I wasn't sure how much time I would have for other creative flash fiction pieces, but the prompt at Julia's Place is so good this week I had to have a go. We were simply given the photo below. Please click the 100WCGU icon afterwards to read more entries.

Credit: Jane Hewitt
http://www.janehewitt.blogspot.co.uk/

Every Other Sunday

Father and son arrived at the next pond.
“What’s that man doing in the water, Daddy?”
“It’s not real, Jason. It’s art. Like the previous one. It makes you think.”
“Hmm.”
He let Jason stare at the boots, quietly, to get a sense of the message. His ex-wife probably never took Jason anywhere where bigger questions were asked. It was all Disney and ham sandwiches. 
“Can he breathe?”
“Jase, it’s not a person. The artist is showing –”
The water broke and up popped a man spluttering, keys aloft.
“Daddy didn’t think enough, did he?” Jason said and walked on. 

100 words

Snapshot: Life

There is a moment when you realise the permanent change in your life that has befallen you. It doesn't fly in on the wings of a grand bird; it is smaller and more unassuming. But that moment is there: in the greetings of recognition from the grocer; in the new, colourful card in your wallet; in the walk of your neighbourhood; in (dare I say it) the local bike app. 

When things change you need cornerstones. Simple, regular, beautiful things. They lead you to the moment when it isn't change any more. It isn't different.

It's your life. 

With wine while watching Dirty Dancing at the Open Cinema
in front of the palace.

Weekend brunch: Scottish salmon, local veggies and eggs
and German white pudding. Heart of Europe.

Cooking lasagne for friends.

Moments on the wall. Got to be surrounded by
happy people. 

The view from our new house as we wait for the
estate agent to arrive and show us around, Wasserbillig.

A Window on Venice

The American author and poet Ella Wheeler Wilcox wrote: "Let there be many windows to your soul, that all the glory of the world may beautify it."

I am reminded of this when I think about my little photography project while I was in Venice: its windows. They did so much to beautify and personalise the city. Each street of this magical city is a new world. Houses, hotels, cafes, shops, gondola yards and stacked together in a colourful rugby scrum, all different characters in a beautiful play. I became interested in their different windows; their shapes and colours, sizes and beauty, flowers and materials. Just like people, it seemed, they told their own interesting stories of the worlds on both sides of the glass.

Looking in or looking it out, no view is ever the same. It's good to remember that.

Here is my photo set of A Window on Venice.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/lbirdalonso/sets/72157631403697816/