The truths about places and people I've left behind are haunting me. I've spent half a year now scratching at the surface. As always, I'm anxious to see what lies beneath this sunny veneer. I want to put a crack in it, "that's how the light gets in" after all. I find, though, that there is only more light and more noise on the other side. The country is swamped in sun, car horns and meaningless screaming. I crave a snow cave, or a sauna with a ticking stove and a frozen lake. I long for quiet aisles of books, a barrier between me and the outdoors. I think of libraries as lovers, the only differences is that you can't take them with you. An internet connection isn't a library, no matter what you read the computer still smells the same. I miss the smell of books. There are some things that vaguely resemble libraries here, but none of the real thing. They usually don't let you in or are closed or are actually book stores. It's not the same thing. Libraries need months every year of cold, rain or best of all fog to grow big and strong. I've left all that behind with a curse. People need the inside time to think and write and organize. The weather must drive you to it. Sunshine is not conducive to deep thinking. Missing that side of life I'm reduced to blubbering each time I encounter something more profound than dancing salsa, laughing, complaining about the power going out or electronics breaking. The sound of a bouzouki is enough to bring tears to my eyes. I'm thirsty for all the daily things I've left behind. Just one birthday party that doesn't stop traffic or one sad song, please. How about someone saying: "can I read you something". It doesn't even matter what it is, the idea of someone sharing ideas is enough to make me weepy. I wouldn't say no to a little irony every once in a while. I want a culture that consists of more than dancing and arguing. Being happy all the time is exhausting.
The worst thing is that when I leave this place I will miss it too. In my mind it will be brighter and clearer. If you are a romantic, you must never go back to places you have been, no reality can do a memory justice. Places aren't things.
The worst thing is that when I leave this place I will miss it too. In my mind it will be brighter and clearer. If you are a romantic, you must never go back to places you have been, no reality can do a memory justice. Places aren't things.