I caught a shuttle up to Max Planks with some girls from an institution in Israel. The conference concluded in a dinner that had me convinced, as I strengthened my circle of connections in the business that this is not who I am.
It was getting too cold anyway and was time to leave the charming town by the river..
I packed my bag and my quivering chin and ran to the bus. I still had his phone number in Switzerland in my pocket that I threw away. It felt exciting for moments to meet him in Germany. It’s all about the context sometimes.
The trip to Ibiza took a flight, a couple of bus trips and a train.
On the train I thought about him and a brief flash of pain took over my body and remained with me till I saw the pearly villas splintered in the warm hills away from the sea.
Soon enough i felt that Ibiza was an island too young for me. Too vibrant and too immediate in its colors and pleasures and lack of. The thought was almost depressing. Waiting for the room to be cleaned the first day, I met with an unofficial guide to the island who wanted me to experience the best food, best drinks and best sailing the island has to offer.
I fell in love with the sunset and sat for hours by the beach dreaming. In Ibiza, I slept on the sand. August was near and it got too noisy in the party island so I had to leave.
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