|
I stand up the road that winds up from the town and the beach, staring down at the travelers congregating. Alone at my perch I drink Italian wine from the bottle, nursing depression and feelings of loneliness. Down on the beach below me are a group of people, friends it would seem, new or old, I can’t tell. I can see them and they cannot see me. Traces of music are carried from a bar in the distance through the night air. I do not recognize the song. The town, Monterosso, is charming, it has the distinctive look and architecture of the Riviera, romantic and beautiful, it makes me wish I was not alone.
The tourists my age are like a cancer, drunken and loud while they wander the streets as families try to sleep. Alone up on my rock, it doesn’t make sense for me to isolate myself and grow sadder, but I don’t move. After awhile I realize that no one is going to come keep me company, and I climb down off the rock I had been sitting on. I am slightly drunk as I walk down the street past the bars back to the apartment, but as I pass I see an open lot illuminated by flood lighting, and a group of toothless old men playing bocce ball. They are oblivious to the mindless hedonism surrounding them. It makes me smile. Their wrinkled faces show only contentment and a simple joy, and it makes me wish I wish I could join them, be one of them, but I know I am just a traveler, and far from home. Still, the sight of them is an oasis in the desert for me. I don’t feel as lonely as I did before. I let my petty depression pass, and I walk on. In its place is only exhaustion. All is quiet inside me as I return to the apartment where I am staying, and turn in for the night.
__________________
Truth is peace. We are all souls in bodies.
|