I’ve been gone and away. Been training, flying, taxying, bussing, subwaying. I’ve been on Prague hillsides, on cobble stone streets, in crowds of tourists and in deserted alleys. I’ve been pushing my feet under yellow street lights in foreign towns, sometimes yelling, foreign sounds. And when it is over there are glimpses of moments and occurrences that slowly drift away, as if they only had a sense of purpose just then, eventually lost in other moments that also fade. Although something tells me that some of the these things will not be forgotten.
The snake in whiskey, the delayed flights, the German bartender taxi driver, the Slavia Prague teenage stars father, the ice cream eating southern Italians in Switzerland, the penalty miss by Di Natale against Arsenal, the balming heat wave from the south in the alps, the nine course meal in a Paris restaurant, the designer tie, the YouTube video on how to tie it, the post wedding morning walk in the hillside park, the Milan Malpensa sandwich, the Swedish youths in the morning metro in Paris who made me want to revoke my citizenship, the Asian Elvis, the married friends, the hard core dancing, the Khmer choreographed dancing, the Slovaks trying to drink me under the table, the worlds most beautifully set football field in Switzerland, the numerous cigars, the view of Lake Como from the airport bus, the Swizz trains, the Paris subway.
The arrival in an apartment without food.
The arrival at work without holiday.
The arrival of morning sun without heat.