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(Tip: Use quotes around phrases or you'll find too much. Also, there is a file for every issue and they are long, so I suggest you use your browser to locate the words in them.)

Look at the whole story with pictures and quotes... or at the latest installments:
#18:Songs that make you go silent #19:The bits in between the bits in between #20:Lost but happy #21:Places where we shouldn't really be #21:Draft on the greatness of small things #23:The Mon Gala Papillons Memoirs

  The year in a box

The idea, which wasn't mine, was to write about the things from 2004 that you would remember for a long time. So there you go. I'm not sure how this can be of any use to you: perhaps you can read it as a study on the way time passes and the way things change.

January was when I resolved to spend more time in the sunshine and take notes of the beauty in the way that we are living. Also, I told a near-stranger who was about to become a friend that I shouldn't live in my own world so much and he replied by asking me if I know of a better one. I thought about it long and hard and decided I didn't. It was a revolutionary thought; by August it had stopped me regretting living in my own world completely.

February was when I found myself sitting on a bench watching half a thousand birds fly in cirlces above me and the trees and the buildings over and over and over again as if there was a reason, and I felt honoured, as if I was in the presence of something rare. I listened to a certain song a hundred times and the phrase 'spring is coming closer and summer will be really nice'

March was when I saw a street arched with pink trees in bloom -the wind occasionaly making pink petals rain down on the dark street- and it made me want to write "and did you care, when I cut my hair? 'cause I wanted you to" on a hundred walls. For a while Blueboy songs sounded like the most perfect thing ever. Then, I turned twenty-three.

April was when I watched 'Lost in Translation' and I liked it so much in so many ways, it made me swear I had to do something with my life, so that I'd get to see Tokyo and tell at least one story as beautifully as the it did. It also made me resolve to say the things I think more.

May was when my grandad died and on the way to funeral, very early in the morning and after not much sleep at all me and my brother discovered there were green rolling hills just a few minutes away from our house. Nick and I made a mixtape I took it everywhere with me, and I fell in love.

June was when I went swimming in the sea for the first time in years. When I came out I was overcome by the feeling that came over me and was very much like happiness, except a bit more tangible and completely unrelated to anything but the sea and the breeze and the sun. And my brother made me a swing.

July was when I went to London and Stockholm and a festival in a tiny but magical place near Kalmar, which is in the south-east coast of Sweden and a long way away from here; I rode a roller-coaster, met some lovely people, saw a few great bands and had my heart "half the way broken", which, as my friends promplty informed me, makes listening to indiepop better.

August was when I came back to Athens which despite everything (hoards of tourists, Olympic Games and the heat included) won my heart again in a matter of minutes by being so pretty. Then Ola came and I showed it to her and it won her heart too. Oh and I think managed to convert her into at least half an indiepop fan.

September was when a letter made me smile on a night when making me smile was a bit like saving my life, or at least restoring my faith in the world. I wrote a lot of letters too. One night it rained and the raindrops hang on to the plants in my parents' balcony; they caught the light of the streetlamp and they reminded me of Edinburgh at Christmas time.

October was when I went out every week. It was a lot of fun and hard work too, and it made a few magical things happened: there was a clubnight, some music that I never thought I'd hear played outside my front room (in Greece) and a drunk conversation that resulted in arranging a Pipas gig in Athens. Once I caught myself walking down a street thinking it is good there are boring things to think of too or I would explode.

November was when I fell in love all over again. I'm not fickle, it's just been this sort of year. I also got a job and I rode on trains to and from it, and I noticed the weather a lot. Everything looked as easy and simple as it does when you write it down in a letter, and I did that a lot too while counting down the days to Chickfactor.

December was when I went to London where I nearly died of excitment a couple of times; I ended up getting drunk in the same room as Dan Treacy and hearing him sing "we love the Pastels, we love the Pastels"; and I had the happiest day of my life (so far.) And back in Athens, one the last whole night of the year, I found myself dancing my heart out at an improvised party. On a schoolnight. When I would have normally been fast asleep.

It was a sort of perfect ending.

And then it was time to start all over again.

Dimitra Daisy 
(More by this author) 



Note: I'm reading a book made out of real letters right now, and so far it's the best thing I have read in ages: that can go some way to explaining why I think you might care about any of this. Even if you have read about most of it already. By the way, everything above is written down because I thought it read well, not because I needed to say it. In other words, I'm not trying to tell anyone anything, except for what they know already.