where I was, last week
I always start one of these posts by writing a lot, trying to sum up feelings and memories about places that will always hold a certain, special spot in the passing consciousnesses—that string of days spent waking up (and going to sleep) way too late on a bed that’s not yours in a city that’s not yours, caught in that dream-like state of not really fully comprehending reality all the while knowing something about it is special because of that magical charm of knowing it’s all just temporary.
I frankly don’t know if it’s because I’m out of school now and thus have become exponentially less articulate or if it’s because I’m just plain lazy, but either way, I always end up deleting whatever I end up writing. Nothing ever seems to fit—no boring summaries, no advice or tips, nor even any pseudo-intellectual thoughts regarding perspective or shared memories or the fleetingness of feelings or, to quote my man Fitzgerald, being very young and free in a civilization that is very old and free.
So all I’ll say is: Lisbon, it’s my favorite. Sun and sea and a pureness that I can’t describe (probably a good sign, all the better for it). I’d like to say I’ll be back, soon, but eh let’s not kid ourselves—I’ve got other strings of nights to spend elsewhere.
Music: the demo “I’ll Try Anything Once” by The Strokes