”Things are because we see them, and what we see, and how we see it, depends on the Arts that have influenced us. To look at a thing is very different from seeing a thing. One does not see anything until one sees its beauty. Then, and only then, does it come into existence.” -Oscar Wilde
This week has been hard. I’ve doubted. Because who doesn’t have doubts about this sort of thing? It’s insane. I’ve been locked in a soviet compound for the last week learning the rudiments of an impossible language with people I barely know, to go live in the sticks with more people I’ve never met who don’t speak my language and who could be total assholes, and teach english to their children, which I’ve never really done, whom I’ve also never met, and by the way did I mention that I have no idea how to navigate in this country anyways?
Last night Sara, Anna and I hit the town with the rest of the bunch for Gabi’s 26th birthday, but splintered off to go find khinkali. The waitress at the place we found, Mari, dumbed down her qartuli enough so that the four of us could laugh, screw up, and communicate in a hybrid tongue. Experiences like those make me so sick with joy I could throw up.
One amendment, oscar: find someone to share your beauty with. Other people have taught me more about seeing than I ever could for myself. Thanks.
On to Buknari!