Sometimes we make our own soundtrack. I explain myself. Often one finds himself floating out of his body and watching over this awkward puppet he really is, running up and down, trying to look as if he's having fun when he actually isn't and getting his share of happiness exactly when one could not tell by the look in his blank face. It is in moments like these when a melody may slowly tune in inside your head, a song that sounds as though made for the occasion has just started in your MP3 player, the soundtrack kicks in, your pace gets to be rythmical, things look as if they fall into place...
Last Tuesday in Charles de Gaulle airport I had one of these moments. I was flying to Barcelona from Athens, through Paris on a trip that apparently connected three of my most favourite cities. Holidays were just over, people very beloved were once more unvoluntarilly left behind, I had witnessed landmark moments in the life of good-old friends and been happy with how things were turning out for most of them. I had my deserved summer-share of parties and beach-relaxing. In all, I was leaving for work carrying a heavy load of all the things that make me still love my birthplace and all those that make it something more than rocks, blocks of bricks and polluted air. Bottomline was: I was sad I had to go.
It had only realised it when out of my Creative-Muvo TX 1GB player a well-placed tune by Coldplay almost commanded me: "Don't Panic".
I lifted up my head and the cold, impersonal sign welcoming me to France suddenly seemed to be polite and warm, my summer memories all melted into a crystal clear image of a precious souvenir that will keep me company throughout the winter, origins and destinations all merged into a symmetrical trajectory with no beginnings nor endings. I was once again on the road heading more for the journey than the place it was supposed to end. Life is hard, but we are masochist enough to like it that much.
through my headphones I could now listen to the chorus:
"We live in a beautiful world..."
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