My trip to Beirut...(I)
I left nyc late as usual. Every time I come to JFK at night, I remember the first time I was here.
JFK always takes me back. My first impression of this country seen through the undergrounds of the violent city. I remember being late then, my suitcases from home overstuffed with books, memories, and smells from home. Running around trying to catch the last flight upstate. The cold insolent reality of this place portrayed through the behavior of the airport clerks will forever be my reminder. Since then I have struck a secret deal with the city. We agreed to admire each other from far, to brush against each other without impressing one another too much. I remember the enhancement of my sorrows in the minimalist portrait of stillness in the snow covered land and I remember almost melting in a background of my own sadness. I remember not being able to complain since I took the decision to pack my life and leave. JFK always takes me back.
Hardly on time to catch the plane to Frankfurt where the summer hasn’t reached yet. On the train to Heidelberg, i had enough time on the plane to go through my papers.
I arrive in time for the first seminar. The conference went by so quickly. I got to know people as fast as I wanted to forget them and their faces. As we were saying goodbye the last day I kept thinking about the night before. I don’t think I slept in Germany. I had snuck out of my hotel, despite the pressing schedule and the early lectures, to spend the night in the old city. The lights from the Schloss reflected in the Neckar water peeked into my hotel room and lured me to get close to it.
And I did. I went to the place where he played and I listened. We must have walked all night that night. I think he spoke English. I am not very sure anymore. I tried to understand till I lost him in a storm the next day.