The Heart of Tbilisi

On my trip to Tbilisi last November, I was greeted by this sculpture on the wall at the hotel every morning before my first sip of coffee. Flanked by two slabs with a heart erratically drawn on them, it may be the softest heart of stones I have ever laid eyes on. Made of pieces, this heart has been broken before. But it hasn’t given up. Like the Japanese art Kintsugi, meaning golden joinery, it lets the scars show because they initiated the leap of its soul’s beauty, from generic to peculiar.

There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in. That particular glow.

I love the purple flowers at the top of the sculpture, the romantic in me thinks you need to finish walking all slabs before you can wear that ornamental halo. You can’t miss a step, like a wave that needs to complete all laps before it will never part with the shore.

Like a rainbow travelling from station to station, from red to purple, to get its pot of gold.