Virtual, but permanent.
Here. There. Somewhere. Nowhere. Elsewhere.
Where?
In the end,
before the end.
In the middle,
before the middle.
In the beginning
before the beginning.
Where to start? Where to continue? Where to end?
When to start? When to continue? When to end?
How to start? How to continue? How to end?
Why to start? Why to continue? Why to end?
Start? Continue? End?
There is that which I have penned.
There is that which I wish I had penned.
There is that which I wish to pen.
There is that which I wish I could pen.
There is that which I want to pen.
How do I reconcile it all with a pencil? Or with a keyboard?
Who knows where evil lurks?
Who knows why evil lurks?
Who knows when evil lurks?
Who knows how evil lurks?
Who knows if evil lurks
Berlin is a short distance from Prague: only four and a half hours on a standard train. Yet, the two cities could not be more different. Languages are as those from different planets. one still looks as it did a thousand years ago, World War II and communism notwithstanding, and the other is a great cultural mecca slowly mending the severe wounds it sustained at the hands of fascism and communism. The pictures show only part of the story. A great deal of European history is told in these two cities. A scant 6 days are not enough to capture any significant fraction of this history, but they are just enough to instill an appreciation of the stories.
The two most valuable commodities in life are good friends and free time to spend with friends. This weekend in San Sebastian had the added bonuses of a spectacular setting, and great music. Miguel brought Camilla and me to this amazing city on the north coast Spain (not too far from the French border) for the start of the annual jazz festival. The music was superb, the weather was perfect, and the cuisine was even better.
It is difficult to imagine a more spectacular setting for a jazz festival. The placement of a modern form of music in an old city made for a combination of sights and sounds that cannot be easily erased from one’s memory.
The sights of Bilbao, the gorgeous city one usually traverses en route to San Sebastian, were equally pleasing, though decidedly more modern. Returning to Germany (or the US, or Sweden) one is inclined to wonder why one is embarking on the return journey. It is an experience like this that makes one grateful for possessing the two crucial commodities: good friends and free time. Miguel, maybe I’ll repay the debt in Iran sometime?