Together Forever
I'm so glad you're back. I was just looking at the photos of the trips we took together. So few. If we hadn't spent all those years breaking up and reuniting, maybe we would have had more time to travel together. Our trips were few, but they were good. In fact, they were the best of all the trips I've taken. When I open the albums of the trips I've taken with other people, I see the immensity of the places visited each day. Museums, palaces, mosques, parks, bars, plaques commemorating the life or death of someone important... Inside some of these albums there are also lists of must-do things in each city. Jesus Christ! A vacation that was more like penance. There are places I wouldn't even remember going to if it weren't for the texts I wrote below each photo.
Today, rummaging through the living room cupboard, I found this very skinny album. From the days of roll film. Do you remember that I took all my photographic equipment on my trip, but forgot the spare film at home? All I have are the photos recorded on the film that was in the camera. Me and my memory... It doesn't work for practical things, but I remember everything about this trip, and I don't even need photos to help. I even remember that crazy guide who kept putting dried foliage on his head, as if it were a wig, and walked off through the Chapada, oblivious to us.
The Chapada Diamantina. What a dream place! For a long time I thought I'd move there after I retired. But then you left. It became hard to fulfill my dream, didn't it? Even if you don't leave my side anymore, or complain, thank God, it's too late now. It would be perfect if it weren't for me walking around talking to myself, making a fool of myself... Give me a break. At the time of this trip, we didn't even talk much. We just looked at each other and knew what the other was thinking. I knew that deep down you liked that crazy guide, you kind of identified with him. Look at those nylon shorts, that's crazy. And that piece of junk never got damaged, it was good quality.
A three-day hike through the Pati Valley. Just the two of us and the guide. I remember that you couldn't believe it when I agreed right away. I didn't even have to think about it either: a fairytale route that crossed valleys and mountains, explored caves and traversed long, windy plains. Look here in this photo, the two of us on the first day, clean and fresh-smelling. At the end of the third day, I felt like throwing myself and our clothes into the washing machine. But my soul had already been soaked in the sun and washed. It came back immaculate from that walk.
Remember the first night we slept in the mouth of a cave? That night sky was a spectacle. Clear, full of stars, no electric lights in sight. The songs of nocturnal birds lulled us to sleep. The next day we spent the night in a native house. Clean, fresh-smelling sheets. Food from the gods. Mrs. Maria worked magic in her little corner of the dirt house, with walls blackened by the soot from the wood-burning stove, the pans all highly polished, hanging from the ceiling. I remember thinking about my kitchen at home, so beautiful, but almost always unused, the poor thing. We'd be eating junk food on the street so as not to waste time with the pots and pans. But not wasting time and doing what with it? That eternal need to get busy, to live life at full speed, to go to all the unmissable programs listed in the Rio Show.
After this photo of Maria's kitchen, the film in my camera ran out, but I still remember every minute we spent together in Chapada. It was a dream vacation. If back then I knew everything I know about myself today, I wouldn't waste my time making other people's dreams come true as if they were my own. I don't think you'd do that either, would you? I'd stop separating from you every few months for some stupid reason, I'd stop spending my vacations rushing around like a convict to fulfill all the travel plans, I'd live life at a slower pace, enjoying every moment, and above all I'd spend more time with my friends, the few I really love.
Come on, my dear, it's late now. And today is the day to light a candle for your soul.
Voltar