Home

After a month of deliberation I decided to go back home.

As I take pictures from the walls, empty drawers and throw things away I feel this adrenaline rushing, making my heart jumping out of my chest.
I imagine myself holding my mum, my nan, my brother, my cousins and my beloved friends. I picture my own body laying down on my bed, feeling the freshness of cleaned ironed linen, where my body is fully aligned with the space I built for my own peace of mind.

I will not say London did not offer me what I was looking for. I would say I did not look for London while I was here.
I felt alone in this double bed. I felt alone at a city that has so much to offer, and so much I can connect with.
I have been to gigs, I helped some charities, I have been with family and some friends (not as many as I would have liked), I have seen exhibitions, I travelled and I finally explored something I recently discovered I enjoy - photography. I would not dare to say this has not made me richer in knowledge and social-cultural experiences, however emptiness dominates me, because I feel I have no one actually sharing those moments with me.
I have gained a deeper insight of what I already knew it takes to be a Londoner, especially with the status of student long gone.
Plus I was again challenged with the atrocious task of expectations and relationships. I am still amazed how after some time I am still admitting things like 'I was wrong about you'. Nevertheless that is a task I must complete throughout my life... It does not mean it is not painful. It does not mean I am not allowed to feel disappointed. Disappointed at myself, disappointed at the ones who surrounded me, or at least I thought they did.

The opportunity of working for the Olympics, even through an event's company, was something that led me to question if I do want to put myself under this kind of pressure.
I mean, it is an opportunity of a life time, but let's face it: I am small and anxious. I panic in the tube at rush hours. I cannot picture myself at rush hour + 10 million Londoners + the Queen's Jubilee + the Olympic Games... Not to mention every single Londoner is trying to make a profit out of ridiculous rent figures. What I would have earned by the time the Games would actually start, I would have already spent commuting or paying accommodation.
As much as I fancy the good looks of this kind of experience on my CV, I rather be back at home, on my safety nest, working and learning at music festivals (which in the end is what I love the most) than spending my Summer wearing black trousers and black shirts, opening bottles of wine and doing the dishes.
I want my independence, I want to help who helped me these last 22 and a half years, but that will have to be postponed if I cannot find the courage and the strength to be on my own, if my nights are long and full of sorrow.

I do not regret the decision I made 5 moths ago. I hope I do not regret this one too.
Right now, it is what I need. Right now is what it has to be done.

Ode à Praia

O meu âmago vive na praia. Lá se deita o meu corpo iluminado pelo sol e o vento quente.

Na praia percorro o mar até este se mergir com o céu. E aí me perco. Aí tudo sinto.

Amo os primeiros laivos de verão, quando os meus pés tocam a água fria e os grãos de areia se me entranham. Provo o sal na ponta dos meus cabelos, na minha pele, sal que me cobre poro a poro.

Na praia caminho até onde o chão acaba, enquanto a brisa e as gotas me envolvem. É onde canto e corro para o nada, talvez sonhando que alguém me irá abraçar lá ao fundo. Na praia a música toca em crescendo. Passo a passo, verso a verso, corro. As palavras mergulham mar adentro. A melodia e eu dançamos ao ritmo das ondas. Corro e canto e sonho. Desejo-te sem fim abrindo os braços ao céus.

Na praia mora a memória do teu beijo. Beijo salgado, quente. Os teus dedos e a areia acariciam o meu pescoço. Na praia nascemos. Na praia morremos quando o sol laranja desceu o céu rosado e tocou o azul da água.

No mar sou uma pena, perfurando a onda um arrepio percorre-me de uma ponta à outra. Lavo a mente. Lavo a alma. Lavo as lágrimas, para que o mar continue salgado. Esqueço a vida, esqueço-te, esqueço-me. Renasço. E perfuro as ondas e uma e outra vez.

Na praia sou a água fresca, sou brisa quente e doce, sou o pó, sou o brilho do sol. Na praia sou tudo. Na praia sou nada. Na praia sonho até onde o mar acaba. Na praia vive a minha alma.

Carolina

2 Abril 2012, Londres