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  • Janela Nini

Wandering souls in Heiligenstadt

On a windy and grey afternoon, two pensive pilgrims were climbing the hill of Heiligenstadt in Vienna: Janela and Anna wanted to pay a visit to their master, at the house where he faced probably the most terrible hours of his life.

The museum of Beethoven Haus, nestled in tranquillity, was waiting for them in its quiet street, and so was maybe the troubled spirit of its famous resident.

– I’m very happy we started to practice the Rasumovsky 3. It’s such a beautiful quartet!

– I read that it’s the first Beethoven composed when he was deaf – observed Jani and after a moment of reflection she continued: – I especially like the second movement.

– For me that movement has something Russian, I don’t know. Like an obsessive sentimentalism, a melancholic sorrow that I often find in Russian music – replied Anna.

– Or in Russian novels…

Heiligenstadt 1875

Wandering aimlessly through the same old path...

still haunted by the memories...

being paralyzed by this dark ambiguous vague, which has conquered her heart...

The emptiness has never left Anna Karenina quite as sore. Too afraid to confront, yet so brave to scream, alone... surrounded by the ruins of the sorrow.

She was the one who decided to end the sentence of her heart with a comma; what else would she expect now? That the scars would suddenly be erased, that the heartbreak would ache less? That THIS wouldn't hurt?

Surely...one day, everything will be different...

Maybe she will find a deeper meaning while throwing glimpses at the sequinned sky, maybe this suffocating feeling of dread will slowly fade away and simply turn into a light wistful air.

"I might not be quite there yet, though...

what if that 'someday' is not meant to be today...?"


She keeps walking around, wishing to transcend the limits of those social restrains, willing to breathe life again. The only way to set her free is the stubborn insistence on living according to the dictates of her heart. Only then, she will be able to escape from the thorns of her loud thoughts.

“So... there might be hope... it definitely has to be light at the end of the tunnel!”

A weightless joy brightens her up. Anna recalls all the little pieces of happiness, scattered through her daily walk. A tiny mosaic of gratitude, where she can cherish those echo moments. The reminder that magic grows in flowers, that the sunshine can make her soul raise after the rain and storm, illuminating the world as if she doesn't have a thing to lose.

But would it be that simple, to be honest to herself? Count a few lies, find a new mask, and pretend it isn't easier to fly away? Is it how it should be done?

The chains of the past, her very own solitary imprisonment remain so powerful, and deep down she knows...

...she isn't nearly ready to exile into another mindset!

Smiling through tears...

all the comfort found, lost in her soul...

The old path is vanishing... becoming more and more incomprehensible.

And she is alone, with her answers left unknown and convinced it is already way too late... her sleepless nights are not over. But she won’t give up...

Maybe one day everything will look different...

Maybe someday... just not today…



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