Camps Bay, from Lion's Head

The nostalgia of the traveler (Part I)

You see your life pass, Cape Town was because my life, dim. Nostalgic things that resolves with a practical "and mind you that balls, all that is past ".

What makes a living in a place where one is a stranger and your home at a time? Why? Does it cost? Obviously I have no clear answer for the other, I have a feeling that life in my case has a lot of ways without charges, of flight, of trial and error, color maps and then lose. I have one and a half in these parts and an afternoon, that could have been another, I opened my computer and bought a ticket unimaginable saying that my next flight landed in Spain.

How strange I did. Of vertigo, almost have a panic to accept the return anywhere, is as if fleeing from myself. You stare at the screen for a while and you hope that that machine that devours dreams I send an email that says: "Access denied return. You must stay there and stop kick ass ". They are eternal minutes of questions, although in reality the only movement is already apparent reason. "Things change when something important is, it is natural to settle and not break things ", I once said Juancho, a friend who is allowed to ever see these pages. Another brainless as I applied the natural by dropper. It is true, that's the problem, I always dreamed of loving without return volverme. But, Cape Town I have been undone and the feet. Bad, Spain is not my place now.

Then you close your little computer, goes out, walk through places that were part of his life and begins to understand that crosses the laundry in which he never again wash clothes; the bar where you never will complain that white wine is not cold; body that includes banana woman sleeping on the street and takes 18 months looking from the balcony ... You see your life pass, Cape Town was because my life, fading. Nostalgic things that resolves with a practical "and mind you that balls, all that is past ". The argument is as rational and positive that I lose no time in refute nor lose even a second to give a hand and go off until the seals that swim near the pier.

That is just the key of nostalgia, in the art of making acceptable what hate, acceptable in the sublime and the sublime deity. It is a bad as anyone else who suffers in silence and gives benefits in the long distance, when fondly remember the first taxi you took in the city ignoring the dress almost complete and in duplicate (begin to doubt the honesty of the driver the fourth time you go through the same square). In short, produces an uncomfortable torticollis turn your head from time to say goodbye for the penultimate time in each place from which you take a bite in the gut. (An indispensable quality of nostalgic memory is our, so able to retain memories of it 60 years of forgetting what we have to do within 60 seconds). The only practical they make a mistake in judgment with notálgicos, believe the living of the past. The passion to create memories, might have said to enjoy, always makes you move, although it is sometimes back. The nostalgic, generally restless, need a lot of new things to miss (enjoy), Joaquin Sabina said that as "no worse than nostalgic longing for what never happened".

The nostalgic, generally restless, need a lot of new things to miss (enjoy), Joaquin Sabina said that as "no worse than nostalgic longing for what never happened"

This was my last supper (the phrase imposes) with my friends from south of the south. I was with Gustavo, Avelino, Rodrigo, Borja, Rafa, Elena, Y Julián David (spanish colony); before and I was fired from Ariane and Michael; or Cheryl and Douglas or ... (Sorry I forget a name) and ate at Wakame, in Mouille Point, exquisite sushi restaurant. It was a beautiful night, in which so many doubts assailed me in my decision as I learned that sometimes "play back". Twelve hours later I was at the airport, looking out the window of an airplane and thinking that "Africa was ...". (Continue).

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