20 September 2007

Memories of Spain in Paris

Paris again, a small cafe somewhere, this table is too small for my latop and the coffee. Two girls discuss something serious in deep arabic tones. A little break from work, waiting for the library to open and use the free state-provided internet. The corner tables in this cafe are the prime places, I have the inside corner by the window, my neighbour just left; she was a young women dressed in fitted black, intently hunched, reading a book and on occasion drawing smoke from her cigarette. Now a young couple come to take that empty corner table, softly complaining about something.

I found this note of from Granada in Spain, probably sometime in late May...

There is Arabic pop playing in this narrow tetoria at the foot of the Alhambra. Outside the sun is dry and hot. Inside, three young Spanish girls share a shisha at the far corner, while in front of me an old and ornate rifle hangs on the wall beside a pink sign indicating 490 EUROS. All of the decorations in here are for sale.

I have escaped the wonderings I use to fill my otherwise missing hours. When the agenda of everyday life is thrown out, it leaves a void of action.

I had forgotten that to be asked for fire, for a light at least, was once a common event in Britain. It still is here. But I have no fire, and only now do I realise that for the last several moments that the girls in the corner have been trying to get my attention. I shrug to the girl apologetically, and say I have no none. Slightly amused now by the giggles that preceded their attempt to get my attention, in good humour, I return my bitter tea and over salted falafel. I came here to write, nothing on my mind, devoid of philosophy, sadly projectless and outside the world of communication; I'm an uncontactable anomaly! Now it is Arabic ninja-techno on the TV, and a beautiful woman starts singing while ninja's jaunt around the background. So, still empty of philosophy I'll finish my tea. But that's it! The creature of my empty heart, a hesitation, lost indirection, slight tension – the curious creature I travel to find. A heart of uncertainty – the very stress in the unkown about what to do next!