Easy

It looks easy after all. You board a plane, you travel for some hours and then you land at a place where you suddenly feel that everything is going to be OK. And you don´t need to hear it from anybody´s lips. You just know it for yourself. The weight has been lifted, everything that happened in the space of just a few weeks is history. All you think is “This is an opportunity, you are lucky enough to have an opportunity, take it!”.

Washington was calm and warm this morning. Its large avenues almost empty, but there was already some movement in the neighborhood cafés. A feeling of peace and well-being.

The first thing I wanted to do was to get to the Museum of American Art as soon as I could and stand in front of Cape Cod Morning. Just a few months ago this new encounter hadn´t even crossed my mind. All I had to do was to look left after I got at the information hall. And there she was. Same place, same emotion. As I walked closer, her features got more clear, the expression exactly as I remembered it. There we were again.

I walked a lot. I walked all around central Washington. It feels easy. Things feel easy, again, and I feel I fit. I immediately feel I belong. Rare, precious feeling. I love how people start talking to me as if we knew each other. Small talk, nothing special, in the street, in the queue at the supermarket, at the counter. Things are easy.

I took a stroll in ‘my neighborhood’ in the early evening. Like we used to do in London. Still very warm and calm. Very green too. My neighborhood.

The Satrapy

Too bad that, cut out as you are
for grand and noble acts,
this unfair fate of yours
never offers encouragement,
always denies you success;
that cheap habits get in your way,
pettiness, or indifference.
And how terrible the day you give in
(the day you let go and give in)
and take the road for Susaand go to King Artaxerxes,
who, well-disposed, gives you a place at his court
and offers you satrapies and things like that
—things you don’t want at all,
though, in despair, you accept them just the same.
You long for something else, ache for other things:
praise from the Demos and the Sophists,
that hard-won, that priceless acclaim—
the Agora, the Theatre, the Crowns of Laurel.
You can’t get any of these from Artaxerxes,
you’ll never find any of these in the satrapy,
and without them, what kind of life will you live?
C.P.Cavafy

Días y noches

I am reading it slowly. A couple of pages per day. Because I don´t want it to finish... It´s been the best part of my days.

The rain

I was behind them, moving under the sheltered open-air corridor of the station. A little girl was walking holding hands with her blind mum, just one small step ahead of her.

"It´s raining", the mother said.
"No", said the little girl.
"Daniela, look, it´s raining", the mother insisted. "Don´t you see?".
"No", answered again the little girl.
"Daniela", said again the mother with determination, "listen, it´s raining."

I smiled, suddenly filled with a feeling of happiness. The storm came a couple of seconds later and nobody could doubt anymore that it was actually raining.

The city of the dead

They were 62 beautiful minutes about misery, philosophy, happiness and life (and death) in general.

A lady was explaining that they had had to leave the tomb they were leaving in, for which they were paying 1 and a half pound, and rent another for 70. She was peeling potatoes. Her young daughter was washing the dishes. "Are you happy", they asked her. She gave a big smile. "Yes, thank God", she answered, without hesitating a bit.

Things I miss

I am thinking of the things I miss. Waking up light and eager to start. Belonging. Feeling complete. Enjoying. Things being simple. The expectation of Friday night and the weekend.

Today, now, I miss all of them together. It´s an overdose.

Still there

"El miedo amenaza.
Si usted ama, tendrá sida.
Si fuma, tendrá cancer.
Si respira, tendrá contaminación.
Si bebe, tendrá accidentes.
Si come, tendrá colesterol.
Si habla, tendrá desempleo.
Si camina, tendrá violencia.
Si piensa, tendrá angustia.
Si duda, tendrá locura.
Si siente, tendrá soledad."
 
Eduardo Galeano