A month and a half ago, I sat staring into the fire: the fire of anger, the fire of ailing friends, the fire that once burned brightly, but was singeing the long hairs hanging from my head. Though the fire provided light, it was fueling my desires in the dark.
A voice called out from afar, “Come here.” I obliged.
For a month, I walked unquiet shores and dilapidated facades to find a peace among friends—a different world of weather, wine, and women—who helped unearth my core, my soul, and dilute the importance of my senses.
Instead of jibberish, speak now more the language of truth and love. And, when fingers touch, make sure there is a spark. Bzzzzt.
Born again—refreshed and committed to my goals—I returned home, an arduous journey of reflection, with a sadness for having left a country I admire, but also with a greatness welling up inside, symptom of my life's mission, with each mile that I drew closer to home.
“Left my soul there, down by the sea.” A piece of it, yes. I will come back for it soon.
Thank you, my friends, for all the analysis and support that you provided during my journey. I will not be soon to forget your kindness nor your love.
Suerte,
Bob
