July 14th

July 14th

Today the Bastille was stormed. Today, two centuries two decades and six years ago, the Bastille was stormed. In that explosion of rage – particles flying in spirals and harsh smoke sprouting from this Armageddon – modern Western Civilization was born. It sprouted from an explosion, from a mini Big Bang, like popcorn when it explodes and ceases to be a smooth golden sphere and becomes a crispy cloud. Today, – also  - a year ago I met a girl of obsessive charm and barbarous cruelty, of confusion and of many faces. She marked me - that’s unquestionable. Love is a very big word for what I feel – crush maybe fits it better.

I met her on a rainy night in that monstrous and fascinating city that New York is. The dark drops ran down between the roofs of Downtown and the trees of Washington Square in front of where we both lived for the summer. We were introduced in the middle of a mob of teenagers of all colors and nationalities, in the best Benetton style, that had been driven to seek refugee under the zinc roofs of the remodeling works of our NYU dorm after a fire alarm went off. And that’s how, in the middle of that sea of youngsters in pijamas, our friendship was born. It flowered, and eventually it became something more complex. But soon that complexity tangled itself with confusions and stupid problems, taking the friendship to an abyss that didn’t seemed to have an end. However it touched the cold floor. And it’s still there, a year after, feeling the cold ground of the dark abyss – waiting for someone to take it out of there. But it seems it’s never coming out.

 And that’s how, my July 14th speaks of a personal and ridiculous Bastille. And I think of her and I think of her cruelty and I think of her charm. The universe makes fun with irony. We were appointed to go to her country’s embassy for some paperwork today – her flag everywhere. I am sure that for her it was just a normal day, I’m just a ghost from her past. Everything continues in that uber-dark abyss and I continue with my ridiculous, amorous, teen, pathetic Bastille – a year after my July 14th, still waiting for her.