the reason one writes is to not forget, to not unremember the concatenation of stories which forms the tale of his being and this is why dandelionwine exists, a beatific attempt to recapture the passing of days and not let it fade into oblivion. it is not so much the former as the latter but it is an accurate reflection of what the author fears most which is really to lose anything.
barcelona has been gorgeous and lovely in its stultifying way; jamón ibérico de bellota, Sagrada Família and the Hospital de Sant Pau on the first day; the renovation of the Palau Güell, the Liceu which didnt have tours scheduled for the day, La Boqueria, La Rambla, Illa de la Discòrdia with Casa Batlló, Casa Lleó-Morera
Casa Amatller being renovated but this would be remedied with a trip to the Casa Milà. the next day marked a trip to the Nou Camp (and the mechanistic monstrosities which heralded U2; yet another reason to not love Bono) and the Park Güell. today was the la roca de valles, the hunt for sps 52gs, purchase of half a kilogram of black gold, conversation with a french sommelier from La Cuina D’en Garriga along Consell de Cent about the virtues of Priorat reds, the copious expenditure of €s, dinner at tapas 24, a fracas with a bus driver, walking along catalunya and enjoying the gentle sunbeams and watching friends devour seafood, which reminded me of paternal episodes, but in a bittersweet manner.
many things come and go, but if there is anything which i really want to do, it will be to return to europe again.
it may be weird for me to say this, dying as i am to go home all the time but i am pretty sure that at the end of it all i will miss switzerland.
this won’t be a lyrical post because there is nothing lyrical about flights and departures, only the closure of chapters, but sometimes while constancy may be boring, it also depicts a sense of loss, that things will never be the same again. today i had a barbecue with craig, lee ann, bobby, sarah, alice, klein, estee, isis, emmanuel, daniella and jun ho and it was a brillant afternoon and there was a certain sense of regret that i had not done this earlier, and that it would be my last. but what can i say.
life’s all about chapters, like a book, like the irreversible turning of pages and there is a certain part of me that dreads what will happen in the future if only because i’m petrified of forgetting my past. what are we then, if we forget the stories that make us, how much of a spectre will we be, how will we continue to coruscate in the dimness of memories.
what are the stories which you will tell, what are the stories that you will remember, or will they all just simply fade away with time? you’re graduating soon, (or once they grade your dissertation) but you dont have a job, and it feels like damocles’ blade is hanging around you perpetually. will you work in england, will you work in ireland, will you try the americas, or will you settle and somewhere along the way, i swore to myself that i will not settle, that i cannot simply accept things for what they are and if there’s anything that i really ever wanted, this is it. i don’t want to go down as a footnote, as a statement, i want to go out the way i want it, through steely determination, through incessant challenges, through a life of lyrical poetry, a supernova, a quasar, an astronomical light.
because it is my life, i want to stop regretting what transpired 5 years ago, and there are only that much ghosts and spectres which i can bear.
