In the shade, under an old Franciscan construction part of a monastery, watching a storm approach towards the place I rest. It felt odd that I was in the shade after walking up a steep hill in the scorching sun and now watching a storm buildup just minutes away from a real heavy shower.
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Tag: waiting
In pairs we walk through the tunnel, contained through a rusting fence, prohibited from moving around within a diameter of a maximum of 5, maybe 7 meters. The wooden benches carved and tattered, aged through the passage of time and the weathering of this anguished environment, dirty, filthy, unwelcoming. The walls, dug out by the blowing winds of winter and scraped by the scorching rays of summer, a process recalled by these walls for ages. The obscene frescoes on these walls are the only most recent addition which contrary to the rest seem to increase as more of us pass by through the years. Graffiti that display history, nationality and maybe even state of mind.
There is no one to wave to, and as I am slowly lifted to the second level towards passport control I ask myself if there is really anything to check, I pass through like an ant through Porte des bombes. The stillness in the area is unbelievable, the fluorescent tube just on top of me flashes through its intermittent behavior as if trying to survive its last moments of shine, the plants green but lifeless. The British white haired couples settled in an un-organized method on the seats remaining in the departures lounge, myself in an un-obstructed angle, anxious but calm, waiting and observing.
Listening to Michael Buble in my car, looking out of the window, wondering about the sky above me, waiting for the ferry to come and take me to the other side, towards the peaceful island of Gozo. The island that inspires me, that keeps me close to my thoughts.Gozo is my escape, the cushion that cuddles me, the nurse that has taken care of me the first time I saw the external world. Gozo forms part of the three islands being the second largest of the three; however it has kept its character and history. In winter Gozo is like the flourishing freshness of a flower. And now that March is over, I see that nature is preparing for the hotter season yet to come.
