myth


I read The Myth of Sisyphus by Albert Camus and never could quite get into it. Then I travelled to Madrid and met a French woman of the same name and it made me want to read everything that Camus had ever written.
When she walks into the office in the morning it is as if someone turns on all the lights and the sun comes out for the first time. She walks by with relaxed confidence and it is impossible not to watch her as she elegantly and gracefully glides to her desk looking more beautiful with every step that she takes. I want to scream out her name and beg her for kisses. I want to talk to her all day long. We went for lunch and I could not help but smile all the way through. Every word she says is funny, she is a natural entertainer. She tries to teach me Spanish but I want her to teach me other things… like how to love again.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

San Diego & Las Vegas

Image
  The flight to San Diego was delayed, but only after we were in the plane. At first, there’d been a terminal change that I almost failed to notice, but I made it easily to the correct gate just as boarding was beginning. Upon boarding, I couldn’t get the arm to retreat into my bag, so I couldn’t get it into the overhead locker the way it was supposed to go. After much fuss and, finally, a guy somehow hitting it back in, we were told there was a delay due to a maintenance issue. After 45 minutes, the issue was resolved and the very same second of the announcement we had a lightning strike. The captain informed us that each lighting strike triggers a fifteen-minute wait period to ensure the sky is clear. In total, we sat on the runway for just over two and a half  hours before finally taking off. The morning had been one of joy, for I was on vacation and my ear infection had almost entirely disappeared. I could hear for the first time in seven days. I made breakfast and then a ...
Read more

winter

Image
  The winter wind howls outside. It explores the windows, looking for gaps and fragilities. The temperature drops and I find myself thinking of the stray cat who has become my friend. Where does he hide? Why will he not come inside? What has he been through? We spend a few moments together each day and I feed him. Then it is time for some human interaction… but, you see, most of them are not listening. Most of them don’t care at all. It’s seven weeks since my mother passed away, I miss her each and every day. For others, it seems to be forgotten history. And, I suppose, it is not reasonable for me to expect more than that. I remember the day that my grandmother, my mother’s mother, died. We made it just in time to her bedside. We’d driven from the south of England, where I lived, up to the north, to the town I was born in (the town all of my family had been born in). I walked into the ward first and saw a lady lying in a bed with nurses nearby. I asked the nurses where Winnie was a...
Read more

a bright sunny day in Spain (ten years ago)

Image
  He lay alone in the darkened room. The blinds were closed to the maximum in order to block out any potential light breaking through from the dazzling Spanish sun. It was the day after his birthday. He had spent the previous day with his girlfriend. But that now seemed an eternity away. Lifetimes had passed since then. It was a Tuesday morning and he simply did not know if it would be possible to get out of bed and go to work. Life seemed empty. Everything was lost to him except the deep throbbing pain reminding him that he was alive. To be alive like this… in this space of black desolation and despair… was it even to be alive? He had found something, something worthwhile and meaningful… something that brought light and hope, but it was now lost. It was inevitable. It seemed as if it was surely, at the very least, the end of his Spanish adventure.
Read more