Friday, 1 August 2014

Which of the 2 Spains will break your heart?

The Sanguine part or the Choleric part? 

The finger snapping one - or the austere, hard faced nobleman? One of the 2 will. 

Either the bull or the torero.
The only question is: who? 

Who will it be: 
The Don Juan or the Carmen?  

The left or the right

One of them will, there's no shadow of a doubt. 

It will be swift, fully unexpected, under third quarter moon. The dagger is already casting its shade on the wall of the church. 

The Spain of the Flamenco or the one of the Paso Doble - who will it be? Heart or balls?  One can ruin you, the other haunt you. There's no middle ground. At one point or the other the Spain Stockholm Syndrome will hit.

Maybe protect yourself and see it through fog. Stick to the coasts and the tourist hot spots. So you will not be damaged and your emotions will never alter. 

Otherwise you will  complain about it and sigh about it and gossip about it and cry about it and curse it and make a thousand plans - and then stay. 

For you're handcuffed, caught between Cap Finisterre and Nec Plus Ultra. Your head is no longer in full control: you've heard the call from heart and balls. You're hearing the voice of Plato over the lecture of Aristotle. A world of shadows outside the cave. 

You're ruined. You're spoiled. You're no longer studying life, you let life study you. You've found the switch on the control panel: bye bye neo cortex: you provide security and well maintained lawns: that's your task and nothing more. 

Who cares who breaks your heart? Someone will have to. It are not birth or death that define our lives, it are the first and the last heartbreak. 

Caminante, no hay camino. All roads lead to Rome, except if you accidentally took a road to Hispania and then a path towards its heart. Then there's no turning back. You're in a straight line towards the very last heartbreak. 



  1. i so get this. it's almost flamenco!