I am writing these thoughts in Crete as I sit in front of the ocean and sort through the findings of my recent trip to Mexico - dozens of colonial documents, photos, and field diaries that are slowly becoming part of my wider research on journeys. Some will become lines in a book I will write one day, some into stories I will tell. The towering mountains on the sides of this valley were once part of Minoan land, until those tragic days in the second half of the 15th century (BC) when the sea didn't leave them much chance to recover.
We have been living on this beach for two months now. In front of this dramatic landscape that has seen countless storms and calms, countless lovers fall asleep at its wake, countless restless writers who set out to waste our time wondering. For moments, it seems he has already gotten used to our presence, raising and falling, busy with his depths. For moments, it seems we disturb his rest, with our restless questions about his horizons. Either way, it's hard not to deem our unimaginable rudeness, pretending to understand, telling ourselves our temporary tales while we know so little. What should be a man's ethical and rational option in the face of such a significant event? A creation that never ceases to be created, but renders almost banal by the everyday triviality of our imaginable affairs?
Look at us, on our nutmeg shells, floating. We imagine ourselves as having the power to steer while engulfed in wind and currents. Randomly assembled drifting shards who feel they can avoid risking everything. It is funny. We call ourselves peace-seekers despite being powerless, making sure to guess tomorrow's weather.
On these shores, with this great culture at my back, in this birthplace of logic, with this extraordinary simplicity and complexity, where I can hardly hear the voices of society, it seems much harder to distinguish between our desire for myth and our desire for reality. Strangely, the wishes of men who call me to fulfill their dreams are ever-present, and my frenzied need to explain myself manages time and time again to break through my boundaries of freedom.
First rays of sun are ahead. The past is as present for me here as the future. Thay all look the same. Against these ancient seas - who saw countless voyagers, tears, and roars of laughter. It's hard not to reflect on our unimaginable rudeness. Passing our shallow days in such shallow waters.
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