Flavio Matani (flavius_m) wrote,
Flavio Matani
flavius_m

  • Music:

Frida's notebook and the awakening of longings and memories

the kaleidoscope of life online reflecting that of the real world....

on Saturday Max had sent me a link to a portal of Latin bloggers and I went to have a look, that remote world that I left so long ago..


.. and ran into   this Mexican girl's blog which, in her different way and her different setting, seemed to resonate strings in me... my old notebooks where I used to write my short stories, poems and drawings and pour out songs that would never get sung. She writes about what is around her, about her grandad who she never met and his presence in her life and it makes me think of me and my own grandad in our very different circumstance, sitting in the bit of cement in the front of the house which we, perversely, called the 'front garden', the clear mornings around Plaza Bolivar in Caracas, with us discussing music, life, meaning and purpose while the newspaper vendors called out selling their wares, the squirrels would stop to look at us and suddenly disappear up the tree where the sloth slowly moved from branch to branch across the sunbeams that broke through the leaves, the statue of the national hero on a horse, shat on by pigeons and flanked by the pensioners reading tabloids and reminiscing about yesteryear and comforting themselves that the world had definitely gone to pot while we passionately discussed what we thought was cutting edge and what might be the valid purpose of musical endeavour with the innocent arrogance of young people who still knew everything ....

.. and the afternoons (and yes, I know I keep going back to this) when on the terrace roof of our old house in a working class neighbourhood in West Caracas I would be practising guitar while my grandad would sit in the ... well, front garden, sipping coffee, reading the evening paper and exchanging wit with the gaggles of girls coming out from the commercial college nearby, while the Avila mountain in the distance changed colours from green to blue to orange...

and all these things from so long ago and a different life came back to me just by a chance opening of an unknown girl from Mexico's online notebook of poems, stories and drawings... thanks again Frida
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