Quite An Interesting Place:

Friday, 7 August 2009

I have lately felt the antsy tingle of unmet destinations and yet to be discovered adventures. I've combed the streets of my own city and though I have not found them lacking, I've felt a pull for another adventure, another voyage, and the soaring sense of providence that comes with the unexperienced.

Despite this, I've lately felt at home in San Francisco in a way that had left me for quite a while. I can see the hidden beauties of the city and feel the sense of belonging of being at home. Home is a great place to be.

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There is a poem by Pablo Neruda and it goes like this...

Adioses

Goodbye, goodbye, to one place or another,

To every mouth, to every sorrow,

To the insolent moon, to weeks

Which wound in the days and disappeared,

Goodbye to this voice and that one stained

With amaranth, and goodbye

To the usual bed and plate,

To the twilit setting of all goodbyes,

To the chair that is part of the same twilight,

To the way made by my shoes.

I spread myself, no question;

I turned over whole lives,

Changed skin, lamps, and hats,

It was something I had to do,

Not by law or whim,

More of a chain reaction;

Each new journey enchanted me;

I took pleasure in places, in all places.

And newly arrived, I promptly said goodbye

with still newborn tenderness

As if the bread were to open and suddenly

Flee from the world of the table.

So I left behind all languages,

Repeated goodbyes like an old door,

Changed cinemas, reasons, and tombs,

Left everywhere for somewhere else;

I went on being, and being always

Half undone with joy,

A bridegroom among sadnesses

Never knowing how or when,

Ready to return, never returning.

It's well known that he who returns never left,

So I traced and retraced my life,

Changing clothes and planets,

Growing used to the company,

To the great whirl of exile,

To the great solitude of bells tolling.