Tomorrow I’ll shave and then catch the plane
For whatever reason, I hadn’t open this pad in too long; it was even about to get lost in the last moving out. For any cause, I was about to buy into the idea that writing myself out was something for “whenever you have some spare time”. But I just hung my old Vans on a power wire, and I can’t think of anything more poetic other than giving “Confieso que he vivido” by P. Neruda to someone who leaves to find on the road. Tomorrow I’ll shave and then catch the plane, and I’m pretty sure, from that moment on, work and everything else waiting for me at home will weight enough so as not to keep on top these pieces of lived poetry I’m trying to put in words.
We live in such a digital world, where distances are often but anecdotes and where the possibilities of exchange are such that not giving it a try sounds like really stupid. Yet I hope means don’t keep me away from the real ends and, whatever cool Skype, SVN or the wiki’s are, I never forget it’s persons what really matter and, even more relevant, the satisfaction of an accepted paper or a new project is not a replacement for the print-leaving feeling you experience when six prople get out of their day-to-day lives for a few hours to say goodbye.
Tomorroww I’ll shave and then catch the plane. In my bag I’ll carry “Confieso que he vivido” with me; my sneakers, however do not fit in anymore but theirplace is filled with the names of all the people that, thoughout the last tenmonths, have made me feel “thank you” has way too few letters. Tomorrow I’ll shave and then catch the plane.