Berna's third blog

So it’s the moment. I’m the last one in the town, the others left. They went to bigger cities, to universities, or looking for a job outside.
I don’t want to be one of those who stay all life in the town, looking at the same landscape, meeting the same people. Or maybe not, because this isn’t anymore the town I born and raised. Maybe it’s the same town, but not the same people, and it looks like a very different place.
Now I have to meet new people for the rest of the year, I have to make new friends, until I leave next year, God willing, to the city.

This is difficult for me because I’ve never been good talking to strangers and making new friends, and the ones I had were since I was a kid.
Perhaps now that I’m forced to do it I will change and improve myself. I’m starting a new period in life in which I have to take my own way and I won’t get it if I don’t try.

What can go wrong?

Coffee, maths and 92.1FM.

Waiting under a porch, surrounded by strangers, everybody talking to others, and I’m there, in the middle. No one notices me, as if I were a ghost. I can move around, I’m not matter anymore, just an essence. I feel the rain trespassing me, I meld with the wind. I can see the drops falling, splashing in the floor, and it relaxes me. I can control the time, it flows more slowly now. I’m where I wanted to be.

I dreamed with her today, and the rest of the day has been a loss of time.

I was complaining about a minor problem when suddenly everything lost its meaning and I fell asleep. I appeared in a strange place, everything was white and there was a chair in front of me. I sit down and something hit me from behind, then I woke up. I was again standing in front of my friend, and he was looking at me, asking me why I stopped talking suddenly.
Then I understood everything, what was all about. And I was scared, because that confirmed what I already knew. We knew what happened, but we remained in silence, assimilating it. Then he told me he was sorry, and I told him it was too late for that kind of things, it was late for everything.
We started walking through the city, while the sun went down, and slowly everything ended.
Late at night, we went to a concert. Loud music, people dancing, and us, becoming part of it, flowing with the rhythm. But in twenty minutes I fell down and I saw the chair again. Then nothing.

I heard a song from Love of Lesbian, and suddenly I remembered the small room of the hotel where we stayed one week, in a cold April, some years ago in central Spain. It was like being back in there. Two individual beds, an old TV, a window and a white wall.
I remember the smell of my cigars, the noise of turning on the lighter, the touch of my jacket and the color of my wallet. We used to take long walks by the city at night with insufficient warm clothing, and we all got cold.