London (i)

This is my last day here. I always felt, when I visited (and I visited so often), that I was part of this strong and fascinating organism. London empowers me but also trashes my heart. Last night I looked out the window and I saw two slim and elegant cranes - so strong and beautiful they could've been imagined by a famous designer. It was sunday, the city was slowly coming to peace, breathing silently, and I could admire the rain against the street lights, and how those quiet and heavy cranes hung over a construction site - I felt that I was that interrupted building: uncomplete, broken, half way to someplace more clear and certain and solid.

This morning I look out another window. I am in a different part of town. Still I feel the courage to look out and watch this city: tall buildings with strange shapes, one airplane flying away, disappearing behind the clouds (like I will soon). I remember now what I once heard: "I am not yet the man I want to be, but I'm not the man I was yesterday". Talvez isso me sirva de atenuante para os danos colaterais que vou deixando pelo caminho. I am so sorry that my heart shrinks and then spreads dangerously like shrapnel. I am sorry I fall short. I am sorry. I stand up, I pack my things, I roll up the collar of my overcoat, I face the rain. I feel raw. This is life.