So, how was Europe?

Sensational.
Astounding.
Breathtakingly beautiful.
Everything I had imagined it to be.

Of course those would be the formulaic responses.

What would be mine, you ask.

Paris has a kind of stained beauty, like a fragile, porcelain face streaked with soot at the cheeks; Dangerous at night, which expectedly, is an essential element of anything lethally beautiful.

Belgium is fleeting, as with everything unexpected and sweet. It was a quick dot on a trail of lines, the surprising dollop of rich cream somewhere in the monotonous meal.

Spain, oh Spain. The tingling concurrence of pleasure and pain. There will never be another place that will capture my heart like Salamanca did. How rich i felt in the arms of thee (ok, even though i went half-crazy budgeting for shopping and insanely delectable food). And of course, the first Eurpean country that got to witness me in the bittersweet throes of a hangover (and almost every other morning, at that).

Alcala was just... pffhhtt. oh was that just 5 days? how about 5 months???? borefest galore.

Just between you and me, i suspect Madrid conspired with time to sneak us by so that we didnt really notice it until we had hopped on the plane for our next stop...

Amsterdam. Well, gotta tell ya, the place is all they say it is and more. plenty plenty plentyyyyyy more. How about i just say that we had the most splendid time enjoying the nocturnal perks of the city. little devils that we are.

Well, that's a terse summary of the trip for you. Of course i could spend a friggin' day and then some and still come up short just writing about the nighttime activities in Salamanca, but that's for another day.

There is none.

By now you must know that when the attacks come, there is none.

When I am overtaken by irrational urges of going back, of sifting through the horrid leaves of things past, there can be none.

When all of a sudden I stop and ask, "What could have been there?", and I have to content myself with not knowing, with the rotten defeat of never knowing, everything escapes me and there is none.

You say i play, but when you have, on the contrary, played me. Not with intent, but nevertheless so. And i am left wishful and wistful, just a tiny bit more than none.

Tonight, it has come.

* * * * * *

And so you ask, "Where is the logic in all this?"

None tonight.

I had quit and didn't even know it.

After going cold turkey for so long, a tremor here, a touch there really brings nothing back. It just lends a smile and a fleeting high. Whiffs of transcendence that last only for so long.

You know its bad for you. Detrimental to the health and all. An enticing danger to the sanity. But a while ago, just for a moment or two, the sight, the sniff, the smile, brought back the pleasures of undefiled addiction all over again.

As a respite from my latest string of unsensational respites, I went and saw this movie, Blood Diamond. I've been a tad curious about it since the early screening of its trailers, and it seemed like a no-contest affair when faced with the choice between that or Deja Vu (Night At The Museum wasn't in the tastes of my movie-mates, or I would've picked that in a heartbeat).

It may be one of the more compelling films I have seen in a while (that and Hotel Rwanda, which I am halfway through with). Blood and gore litter the film, which i notice serves to highlight the little specks of humanity and morality that shine through the utter chaos of conflict-ridden Sierra Leone. When a little flicker of a rough-mine diamond is worth a person's hand, or an extraordinaryly big one a whole nation's inhabitants, what stops a lust-crazed rebel army from annihilating whole villages in its quest for more blood and lucre? Of course, no film set in a war-ridden Africa will be complete without its child soldiers, most of which are young boys picked, pruned, and brainwashed to slaughter scores of innocents without remorse.

This is not a movie for those who pay for a cushioned seat and a few hours' worth of catnap; the relentless gunfire and death-cries will shatter you from dreamland. It is a heavy affair, with undeniably heavy undertones.

Walking out of the theater, I was left with an urge to re-estimate the real worth of a hundred carat pink diamond and a bit diamond-phobic (a phobia which I'm sure, exists in those concentration camp-like diamond mines). Perhaps I'll just ask for a Rolls-Royce Phantom Drophead Coupe from my future fiancee instead.

Can you have your heart broken even before falling in love? When everything around you points to the negative, do you just close your eyes, pray for happiness, and take the fall?

Or slam on the breaks just in the nick of time?

* * * *

Love is intrinsic of human nature, yet it is deviant of all that is weak and human.

"Why do you suppose we only feel compelled to chase the ones who run away?"

It proves quite a fruitless pursuit. That, above all, is most evident. It does nothing but tire and expire the body, and even more so one's sanity - for the endless laps ran in the winding mazes of the mind speed us to our end.

I'd be laughing if it wasn't so tragic.

Is it the thrill of the chase? The irresistible appeal of a challenge? Or is it man's uncontainable pride - too undeniable, too overbearing, so that he attempts to defy what fate dictates as unattainable?

I'm lost.

A lot has happened, I've lost much to time and circumstance, and somehow I've never felt compelled to do anything save for the ocassional moping and half-hearted grunting of regrets.

I miss people I never thought I'd miss. Being sorry really does no good. I've figured that you lose them, you miss them and that's that. No sense in prolonged goodbyes and overflowing apologetic allusions.

But do know that these come from an elusive place inside of me, a place of utter remorse and sincerity:

I miss you terribly.

Goodbye.


With this, I accept and let go.

I never knew I'd miss the feeling. It's been a long long long long time coming, I knew I'd get crazy again once it happened.

After sobering up for months on end, today, the 26th of September, bacchanalian lust takes over once more.

Take me to the next!

Pienso de ti.

El mundo es un prisión oscuro sin ti.

Soltame.