I had friends visiting many times from New York, London, Mexico City, Belgium, always coming with a big smile and leaving with even a bigger one. This time they came again from London. Nice people, cool. I Know only one of them we first begun talking when I was in Mexico, back then you see I was 26 I knew only one person that committed a suicide, that is my long dead father. And today I’ve just turned 28 and I know 2. Another two years of life for me, of an insignificant life once I was told by him. The things I’ve seen, the people I’ve met, the love I’ve made the unsuccessful romances the hours.
They stayed at my place for a few days. We had long walks down the beach and across the coastline, collecting shells and beautifully shaped and coloured pebbles thrown outside of the sea by the wild waves of winter the wild waves of their life. We visited the castle. It was a nice day. No! it was a good day! Cecile Nas Martin and me took old medieval narrow paths, difficult ones, but oh so beautiful. We ate lunch outside of a small old humble church watching the view. Another stop, another view, always the same procedure. And then the castle, the castle of my insignificant childhood the rocks, the ruins, a mutilated castle, sitting on the top of a cliff, an imperial position, not lying on a bed in a crapy hospital room, surrounded by majestic mountains and clouds not grey walls. Castles and clouds, castles on clouds, mutilated body on a bed with white sheets. And the view, beautiful, exhilarating, breathtaking, we sat there, we ate, we watched in silence, we talked, we watched, more or less the same procedure we left, the view remained. The view remains, we leave.
I like Johan Sebastian Bach because he wrote music based on a well organized escapism. Notes, melodies, tones all of them organized but at the same time free to move and interact. He didn’t like Bach “stupid music” he had said praises, life God and people, insignificant people. I don’t know, people come and go I feel like the view I remain… I like my people. People were waiting outside with me while waiting for the ferry to come. Me and an old lady walking steadily, slowly but on opposite trajectories almost ceremonially, up and down, from and to, moving like this but I was not getting older and she was not getting any younger either. The ferry arrived to the port. The bus was taken and now in the metro, waiting again. It’s funny how routes change analogously to our life’s conditions. Once I used to go to a lover, then to another lover, and now to my sister.
Back then when I was a New York resident I used to take line six from Astor place to Times Square and then change to a yellow line to reach Astoria. I had two lovers there that was convenient, no complications, the same route the same view the same place. I like New York because "she" is easy. I mean "she" is not complicated, "she" is just a bitch, everything is black and white, bad or good, in love or in hate and that’s all. When in Mexico it was easy too, there was no route for me, I was the one being picked up. Easy life easy people, dangerous, I was once robbed. A gun pointing at me, a gasp, a terror, but also feeling cool like nothing could go wrong, I was wrong, I was lucky. In Krakow there was someone complicated bloke, many daddy issues, my dad is long dead, he is the first person I know so far having committed successfully a suicide. In Krakow I had the same route with him we were sharing the same friends the same route the same view I thought it was easy, it was just in my mind. In Groningen I was alone like here I am alone. I made my tries do not get me wrong I never give up on love never! Always trying, always!
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