It was a beautiful Saturday night out with friends. I, as always, enjoyed myself and was happy about the weekend, new people I meet and much more. But one thing ended my happiness abruptly. My two, good friends who visited me and whom I went out with were robbed. It was not a dramatic, life-threatening robbery in a dark alley of London but in the Cloakroom of the place we were at. Quite tragic, phones, wallet and keys were gone. And for me personally, my nice, little, black notebook was also in there and therefore gone. My precious notes which are worthless for anyone else since they only contain private thoughts, ideas and observations of mine which I sometimes share with people either on my blog or in real life. I was upset. Of course my friends also had every reason to be upset but I was too. It is not the financial loss that it would cause to buy a replacement, it is rather the content that was uniquely formulated when I experienced moments in my life in which I felt that I had to write them down because it would be worth remembering them later in my life. I loved the idea of using a notebook since I arrived in London. Pages I could fill with everything I like preserved for my future self. I imagined myself twenty years later reading my notes and remembering all the things I experienced from weird people I met to beautiful moments on a bench watching the sun set and the leaves fall from the trees marking the end of summer. All that was gone with my book. The chances to find it or that someone would care were nearly zero. The person who stole my friend’s bag probably did not aim to violate my privacy and yet it is an uncanny feeling that somebody else might be reading all the things I wrote. It was mainly for the memories that were gone which made me feel down. It must be like a photographer whose film was not put in correctly while he took pictures. Or, more probably, these days the memory card would be faulty by the moment you try to look at hundreds of pictures you took on your computer. You might remember it but it is still gone and gone forever. Only memories in everybody’s head are left.
Monday morning, London Central, thousands of people marching to work just like me. Still the bitter taste of loss but slightly better since I bought a new nice, little, black notebook. I was at work and received an email from somebody saying that he found my notebook on a window sledge in Covent Garden. A sudden and overwhelming feeling of elation filled my entire body. It was Karma, the universe helped me. Good people are so rare. I try to be one of those. I give things I find back even if there is an effort involved when doing so. It is mainly because I hope that in case I lose something, somebody will make an effort to give it back to me. And so it happened when I received that mail. Karma is real. I believe in that certain balance in the universe which evens out every deed regardless if good or bad. I just cannot believe how lucky I am. I have my notebook and notes which I should look after much better from now on.
One way or another, I will keep on writing in my blog and in my notebook. My notebook, however, has had its first travel through the streets of London and found its way back to me.