Taking into consideration various factors, I shall not be publishing anything in the near future. Ideally, my return (for there is always a return to those things that give us pleasure, that are known to us like an old lover) will be marked by a curious assortment of photographs taken during a voyage to the West. Ever since I can recall, I have associated the West with an intense sense of freedom, of liberty that is equivalent to that sort that is experienced by a child, who sadly pases a particular threshold only to be bereft of it. On his head is placed, not a crown of garland like those that my friends and I would bestow upon the victor of our races on those cobbled streets that delighted my heart whenever they resonated to the beat of a horse galloping upon them, but a crown of thorns, the crown of manhood.
l want to give myself to that Bohemian bit of me that is anxious and awaiting. Sometimes, we discover certain aspects … though they are not really discovered but rather, we tenderly forget them and when we let our guard down, they most vexatiously emerge, appearing over our horizon. It took me 21 years to remember that I love to walk barefoot. My disdain for X- whose sole crime was to thread barefoot across the courtyard, not being tainted by that pernicious bitchiness that generally characterizes vegans. And in my disapproval was my desire to do just that. But I was too frightened, too separated from my chilhood to realize this. And when I finally broke down and gave in to the temptation, I felt such joy that was not comparable to any pleasure I had experirenced before. The roughness of the earth mercilessly tearing through my soft feet, almost as if without pity and rancorous, finally being able to release its anger at my denial of its touch. Aïe! Aïe!
So I have started to nourish a habit, for habit is stronger than any other thing, that I had abandoned and without realizing it, was doing myself more harm than good. Ah so many books, so little time!