Being surrounded by tourists is in itself a sensation. You’re home, while they aren’t. They have surprise in the scenes they see — the fog as low as the border of the high cliffs and that stone cross, landmarking a site that’s shown as worthy of visit in their touristic brochures. You’ve seen them, but you sympathize anyway.
Their purpose and the terrain’s merging together with every batch of clicks of their cameras. I’ve also gone there to shoot, and I too am reminded of the value of these ‘little’ passages of life. And for a while I might enjoy life a little further than I usually allow myself to… to honor their example.
If I think, I see the hugeness to this world and think to myself how the time by them spent on this land of mine shall match the one I’ll waste on theirs some other day — may I only be as good a tourist as they appear to be.
You feel somehow wiser in sharing a spot with these foreigners. A poor wisdom, one might say, a wisdom made by staying, although my landscape was never poor and well, my eyes never poorer either, hence the strain.
We may even all look alike, though mostly we do not, they’re too diverse; and I doubt if they recognize a local as clearly as one of us does them. Do they even care? Do we even perceive how much they might?
I’ve been going out lately, to see all them, to meet them without saying a word, just to watch and to walk and be properly alone. In a fashion that allows for no thought to exist as much as it might while sitting enclosed in a lecture room where one draws, from it, notions of a quite lesser degree when compared to those attained awhile while lone walking.
Walks like these are those who make me feel like I should tell whatever, else and more, even if no imagination blesses me. Like I should try something else, something natural, for life is most often about something that’s not what we’re already on to.
We know what it is if we choose to feel happy and then while under the effort of feeling so, think of a happy future too, or a happy next hour, and we’ll notice how the shape we give to that vision of joy we aim to eventually award ourselves is recurrently the same, every time.
In life, one should only take closely within that which is not anyone else’s, for we owe something to some things only, not to all of them. Things that need you as you them.
Truth is those things are rarely things — they’re something else.