I confess this trip of mine was a little extra and considering my long stay in Palermo and the little work done this summer, I really shouldn’t have.
And yet. Although I am scared at the thought of such a journey on my own, part of which totally unplanned, something – or somebody – pushes me there. There where? I guess I am not really going anywhere but inside myself once again to clean up a bit, to open my eyes on the ruins inside. Before a journey I am always afraid of going astray: mind and body. Like the time I was left in the street by my father. My poor friend Martha died af abandon, I am very sure of that. It wasn’t cancer that killed her, it was the deep sense of feeling a-ban-donned = given to whoever, and then nobody never really wanted her back, so she died little after little, her philosophy was not enough for her.
Busy dying or busy living, you have chosen the second. And your example taught me so. As for me, I have now realized that that scar of mine will never heal completely I guess, perhaps because I keep on picking on the crust, as my usual. Like all the numberless other times I put myself in that condition vis-à-vis those I loved.
So I think it is time to face the beast once for all, and to see if she can kill or if she will simply vanish once I look her in the eyes. And after cleaning up the ruins, to start setting for my home, possibly a brick house not a hut, as resistant as possible to earthquake.