Clouds are thickening as evening falls. Down in the village there is a party going on, but not for long. The town has decided the fiesta grande has to close at 00:30.
After this babe o clock the music (bass frequencies are NOT allowed) is turned off, the bottles are closed and stacked, laughter swallowed and songs shut up.
Fun yes, but not too fun. I guess the grey eminence in charge would'nt allow the party at all if they were lone choosers. Parties remind of the fact that we are actually
alive and there is indeed a life aching to be lived - beyond the ergonomically correct office chairs. There are songs replacing essays, free speech instead of formal moralization.
Well, well...who cares. One gets used to being ruled, to behaving and being in and under control. Don't you let the dogs out...
Waiting for the bus, sunbeams piercing the blanket of clouds, I am talking to Abdullah Abahatchi. About wiredness and detaching, learning to detach, unwire and
kick the habit. Was a fine talk. I hope he survives and that his, aswell as my own, life again gets a chance to flourish. Wind, water and light. Enough of the withering
fade to grey much too early. In the prayer of contemplation I remember this moment we shared, in the pausing of the rain.