Okay so I get on the plane to Ireland in about 50-over hours. And yes, I am psyched! I have my new passport made, will go change money tomorrow, my accommodations booked and my internal transfers paid for. Bag is half packed (half cos the other half is still in the laundry basket) and my itinerary is all coloured up and ready to go. The pinky walkman is even loaded up with iWalk Tours with accompanying maps.
As I ran thru my lil coloured piece of paper with pardner in kryme, and watching him grow all excited about the sights I would see, the history tied to it, I couldn't help but recall my words in Dark-haired Men and Spanish Guitars...
"And that was where the danger sign came in handy. For what the hell would I do in Barcelona all on my own? To be immersed in such beauty and to turn to my left or right , only to find an empty space there, some presence demanding to be filled."
I'm not even half out the door and the pang is already there. And it's a ridiculous sentiment to have, cos in the 13 days that I'm away, it's the same amount of time that he's not based in town anyways. So technically, it doesn't make a beef's dent.
*Thumps head on desk*
Must. Stay. Focused. And. Walk. On.
Must. Resist. Urge. To. Chip. Off. A. Piece. Off. The. General. Post. Office. Building. To. Bring. Back. For. Hoarder.
No comments:
Post a Comment