2015 was a magical year. I woke up to this and slow danced with Aurelio, counted boats, stared at birds.
But all good things come to an end, as they should. Because all goodness needs that stop sign. It is just how it is.
My new apartment has no view to the ocean, but It lies in a strategic piece of land where there was nothing before. The building is so new, if you google the address now, Google Earth will show you trees. Before us, birds would sing here, build nests, sit on the branches of old trees and nurture the land of minerals not yet discovered. Our new block of modernism ended that, like any other modern whiteness. A white paper that is all and nothing. I can hear the thought process of the builder’s mind, the black and white letters of monochrome and minimal that were clouding a young architects lines of wisdom so that a couple of years later I could sit here and hope. Hope there is something left for the building to breathe, and then me, so I can take it all in while I look at the stars from my window. It is not all bad. There is goodness in everything. It is just how it is.
Today, now, as I write this, I like to imagine all the stars, all the angels, all the clouds have a GPS dot on our window and are sending us star dust, so we go on through life representing those trees well: the trees that are no longer there, in the name of their lives. I have hopes like I never had before. I see shooting stars some nights and wish little-big wishes. I wish. Just the fact that I can do that takes them (the stars) by surprise. And me. I might start saving those small coins, find a fountain. New is new, and it drags “hopes” up to its two feet. The stars now talk to me and stand my hopes up, sky high, head up. Come on! Do it. In the name of the trees and all of us, stars.