The truth is in the Details

God, as the Devil, can be spotted in the details.

I did not get my plane yesterday, did not go to Ukraine.
Did not get as far as Chernigov (Chernitsvi) to buy the most important flowers of my life; suddenly, it became unnecessary.
The sheer, astounding power of a text message is something to be reckoned with; always.
A message held me down, made me reclaim my luggage, fight my stomach which was suddenly willingful to throw up an unexistant dinner, and then get ready for the *really* bad times that are coming.

She might have decided to tell me that she has someone else a tad earlier (or simply 45 minutes later) that would've had made a huge difference; sometimes, it's the Devil hiding in the details, not the Lord almighty.


I'm angry at myself for not having left despite the "inconvenient" (tragedy of a lifetime?); that's what is turning my stomach so upside down, my head angry and my soul terribly sick.
I should have gone nevertheless; there were people waiting for me there, people I love, and that have shown me their love already.
People that deserved this visit, the pictures I was bringing them, and a toast together.
No, this I will never forgive to myself; now I'm at home, angry as hell, knowing that I did the worst thing at all, and that this failure, whatever huge, has been made bigger by my stupidity in remaining instead of catching that damned plane (although I was *so* shocked at the airport that I wasn't able to collect my luggage for a hour and a half, I simply wandered around in disbelief with the occasional policeman stopping me and asking me if everything was alright).

Shit.
Shit shit shit.

My ticket is non refundable, so I suppose my 383 euros are now part of the pension fund of Ukranian Airlines (although I'll give it a try at recovering from this somehow, maybe pay an extra to be embarked on a different plane).

Music for this?
You need a pretty tough shake of "Duet of flowers" (Leo Delibes), then you really need both "Nightswimming" (R.E.M.) and "Everyone's free (to wear sunscreen)" (Baz Luhrmann, on Kurt Vonnegutt's lyrics), and then, absolutely, you need to finish with "Oh happy day", sang by Edwin Hawkin's Singers.
We all want some hope, don't we?

This was going to be мая лебедная песня, my swan's sing, because nothing was (is?) too much for her, not even the absolutely crazy idea of reaching her small hometown in the middle of nowhere to buy her flowers there, just to bring her a little, sweet, warm feel of home now that she's so far away from it.
It turns out to be мой кошмар, my nightmare.

Now, in my room, the Edwin Hawking's Singers are singing "Oh happy day".
Let's just start from here.

Over.