Caffe Interactions

I look around me and suddenly think of the relationships we build and the joy and celebration around life. In the blink of an eye, I feel the fragility of it all. The sensation floods my whole body, fills my eyes with tears and makes my skin crawl, moving me very deeply.
How long will we be here? How long will IT last?
Sometimes I look at myself from the outside, as if I was a third person or an omnipresent narrator seeing my life today and watching the movie that has been played up to now. I fantasize what the voice-over would tell if the story was written by one of the authors I enjoy the most. I really like this reminiscing exercise.

Nostalgia has always been a way of visiting memories that comes naturally to me. I don’t consider it a form of sadness, but part of the ability to be moved by life as a mystery that I am lucky enough to enjoy. At the same time, in order to preserve those records of the past and be able to come back to the present, I remember myself that all that happened in a time, space and circumstances that were unique and that I can only visit in my memory or revive up to a certain extent, when telling others about it or writing those memories down. It is something like coming close to touching the veil that covers the past. There is a certain recoverable sensibility; some memories can be felt on the skin, smelled, tasted, but only for an instant that is very, very brief. That briefness is also the fragility of everything we experience in life. It is the fleetingness that enhances the enormous joy of a beautiful memory, and also which compels us to return to the present, because of its inevitable brevity. After returning, we can become aware of the treasures, brilliant and opaque -all of them-, we travel with -curiously- in a light way, along this fortunate transit that’s life.

Fragility has for me the same connotations and descriptive impossibilities as Time. It is a concept that we associate with images but that seems impossible to be fully described or explained with a single definition or example.

Fragility and time are notions that encompass a thousand attempts at explanation that coexist with each other, even while being seemingly contradictory. In the whole (including contradictions), lies the treasure, the mystery. It is the Whole described by all of its parts, but whose single parts fail to cover the immensity of that Whole. The metonymy that will never be a synecdoche (was it that way?) 🙂.

I think it is the same way with memory. It is a treasure of infinite parts subject to unknown orders. A mystery that reveals itself in fragments and instants, which contradictorily we cannot possess entirety. But that, nevertheless, continues to travel with us, with its flashing appearances and its omnipresence.

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To whoever made it this far, thank you.

As you know by now, I’d like to read you.