Beauty and Aesthetics
It somehow happened that from an early age my mother taught me pretty things. Fresh flowers on the table, beautiful dishes, a carefully ironed tablecloth, vases all over the apartment, neatly arranged books, paintings and photographs hung on the walls, figurines. All this created an atmosphere in which I wanted to be special, in which I wanted to get better and better, I wanted to see and create beauty.
She could spend hours thinking about how to move objects and details in space to make it special, cozy. Nothing has changed, by the way.
I remember how I carefully looked at a crystal fruit vase on the table, so unusual and memorable.
Now I want the same. I try the same. And that makes me so happy.
At some point, I let go of my space, because it doesn’t matter to my husband whether we have a new vase or whether another blanket is thrown on the sofa, or whether I changed the carpet. Comfort never left our house, but beauty, which is so important to my eye, at some point stopped transforming. From this, the garden inside me began to fade, began to get lost, began to suppress me. Got it. Felt it. I devoted the morning to rearranging the kitchen, looking for a beautiful tea set for every day use and the notion that after all, I cannot live without beauty and aesthetics, because this is what I got used to from early childhood.
I am Happy.