Just got out of his coat lapels and tie the ends of the scarf. That cold, that wind shear so characteristic of the face. Then he knew he was back "home." I had not perceived it as such, but as is often needed to leave to do so. The eternal paradox of the distance. "Remoteness." Sometimes a word that symbolizes freedom and others is like trying to swallow a handful of pins ...
supported the suitcases on the floor of parking, dampened by an oblique light rain was comforting somehow. He closed his eyes for a moment as if it were a ritual to focus on something, anything. A smell, a feeling, a memory. And above all it came memories flashes, striking like a stampede of bison. Too, fast and uncontrollable. This was no time for that. None of bison in Los Monegros. Had turned to go step by step and hand. In a straight line to clear horizons.
Across an F18 taking off the terminal and then the silhouette of parallel rear wings disappeared into the clouds leaving behind the classic boom. It reminded him of his youth when he used to spend hours in the fourth riding model planes, mostly fighters. And among all the F18 has always been, with the F14 Tomcat, his favorite. If memory does not failed the last model made was that of a British Harrier ...
was mounted in the back seat of the car away, staring at the gray landscape of that road that he knew too well. Sometimes seeing pass the guardrail is so mesmerizing like looking through a kaleidoscope. The CD sounded a Willie Nelson album. It was not bad soundtrack for a journey to exhilio. Or to have the head of ten things at once and nowhere at the same time.
From the passenger seat asked, "Well, now what you gonna do?"
And look away from the window said: "I am going to do well
0 comments:
Post a Comment