To spend 25 soles, stuck in a taxi to Lima’s main square, watching tired faces waving bottles of water in their swollen, dirty hands. Same words formed on their dry lips as they move, zig zag, pollution to pollution, window to window.
To watch the sunset kiss the foreheads of young lovers as they kiss in front of majestic cathedrals and generic
governmental buildings,
to realise most of our lives’ sunsets are spent counting money slipping
through our hands,
to realise that what we’ll all count,
before going to bed,
are the times, the myriad ways we were passionately kissed
By lovers and the pulse, the rhythm,
the lights of every city we have walked
and crossed the streets of,
vaguely thought of in the haze of our dreams.
***
To walk across the sandy beach
of sleepy Paracas, wondering if there’s
much left to do other than smell
the slow cooking of octopus,
the punch of salt sweeping the coast,
other than listen to latin music
On repeat,
The arrhythmic sound of amateur fireworks
scarying the town’s stray dogs,
other than tuning in to this
endless summer, a long nostalgic trip
to childhood summers, feet dirty
from running barefoot, hair still wet,
the slow consumption of ice cream,
the slowing down of the vanity of thoughts.
***
To take a ride on a shaky boat
to the shores of the Ballestas islands
of birds
And sea lions and penguins, no humans,
to lose a hat in the ocean’s wild wind
and watch an equal number of cell phones
rise up in the sky as birds’ wings,
to realise humans are the real invaders,
The parasites that demand space
and resources way beyond their needs,
Strange creatures whose towering egos
Overshadow oceans, species and herds,
The vastness of waves, climate change,
tsunamis and temperamental storms.
***
To ride through the desert and realise
most of us don’t even take a break
from documenting our conquests,
all the places we have been in,
most of us don’t stop fixing stray hairs
and dusty jeans,
most of us won’t stop to watch the reflection
of the drowning sun in the mirrors of
The distant oasis
that’s gone a bit rusty and gloomy now,
cloudy, like our own perceptions
of what it is we need,
locked in a box,
saved in the archives of our phones
that will be flooded with tomorrow’s
images soon, replaced by a later model
of the same
attention-grabbing tiny little robot soon.
Everything’s saved in a cloud these days
apart from the way the colour,
the irregular shape, the unpredictability of the desert
has made us feel once upon a time,
the brief fairytale of a moment
That will be forgotten soon.
***
To watch the scorching sun
light up the Nazca lines and all the world’s mysteries,
a long ride along windy roads,
small graves decorating sharp bends,
so many bones forgotten underneath the earth
Yet Inti, the sun of God, still rises,
Yet we, Humans, still rise,
I watch the man across me in the bus
sleeping, his baby daughter
peacefully sleeping in the warmth
of his arms.
***
To wake up after a long bus ride,
neck sore, tongue white, eyes burning,
muscles fast asleep, short of breath,
in the pebbled streets of what seems
a somewhat familiar, nearly European city,
a worn out Florence, the bitter history
of a nation weighing on its shoulders,
Hidden behind its colourful walls,
the pristine architecture of the city’s
monastery, an outcast of a city
And I feel like we and the psyche
of this place have a lot in common.
To spend a late afternoon
on a pretty terrace, sharing
Coffee and stories, waiting for the perfect pink sunset,
Only to find the sun playfully hidden
behind clouds,
to hear a foreign language and realise
its our own,
to miss our home and find each other
because what’s home
if not the comfort
of knowing, we would be happy to watch
each other grow old.
***
To be struck in awe and wonder
by the grandeur of mountains that tower
way beyond our eyes can reach,
to feel a knot in our stomach,
a heavy parasite climbing the walls of our intestines and still climb up,
seduced by the varieties of cacti
and herbs,
The sharp, menacing edges of ancient stones and Inka ruins,
victims of the fire that runs in our blood
when we watch other, foolish humans,
Climbing to destruction,
in sharp, confident steps.
The red tape and skull stamps at the top
Of the mountain
make the journey all the more appealing,
when we make it back to ground level,
I take another look at the proud,
round faces of the indigenous people, short, chunky calves underneath colourful garments, threads and weaves and uninterpreteable signs,
I feel an immense respect for this harshness and simplicity
of life that I don’t fully comprehend,
the grandeur of a foreign way of life,
Closer to nature,
Closer to everything that matters,
Closer to everything and nothing.
***
To watch the older kids overtake you
while you are gasping for air,
crawling across uneven ground,
the paralysing fear of being blown away
by wind or a small mistake on your part,
A man says the descent will be easier and I should put away my water battle,
grapple, hold onto dear life
with both hands,
And I think to myself,
We travel to feel young again,
to realise we are always older than we think,
For our thoughts to find the space,
the time to roam free,
to get sick in foreign lands
Then miss the comfort of our own skin,
to feel the fragility of our own bodies,
The way fluids flow through our veins, our organs,
the way we breathe, bones cracking,
fingers grasping, feet firmly,
Sometimes not so firmly, meeting the earth.
The earth will be here long after we are gone,
The stones will outlive us,
All.
***
San Cristobal square.
To watch Cusco, a miracle of a city,
showing its tentacles of life,
Brick houses spreading along
The hillsides of these enourmous mountains,
The striking clarity of air,
Deep, long breaths,
the distant voice of a traveller,
explaining what we see in the distance,
Qorikancha, the temple of the sun,
miniatures of people strolling
in the main square.
I watch the city go on from above,
I let my legs hang from the edge
of the pebbled wall, I swing them round,
I let the silence of my mind speak.
I wonder if that’s what it feels,
For a second,
To be god
or – at least – in peace,
This meditative state of mind
finally achieved.
Rational Artist 