(Nothing but) Flowers...
- the Talking Heads
Bizarre is to lose shape.
For reasons irrelevant, form sometimes (simply) disappears.
Not that I don't recall or mind the differences that exist between places; no!
I have been floating like a phantasm on Manutius's labyrinth; rediscovering a city that by its effervescence renews itself every day; treading on my own footsteps amid decadence, in the "land of rape and honey"*.
But canals, magnificent palaces, bridges, mountains, churches rich and poor; gridiron plans, trees, balconies, verandas, plazas and broken sidewalks have somehow blended, senselessly, in me. Grotesque, opulent, sharp, young, living and dying, arcane and miserable - one, and three cities.
Why? - I ask myself, perplexed - What has happened to me? How have I managed to fall into such syncretism; one that is able to emulsify the glory of Venice with South American ebullience, in full rise and full decay, with such astounding simplicity?
I frankly wouldn't know. (Or dont' care, which is basically the same).
All I can say is that my soul has naturally performed the weird alchemy of turning the most dissimilar substances into a single, uniform scent, diluting form and following me wherever I go: A smart trick life plays on me - it appears - by short-circuiting the tyrannic chain that ties my eyes to my mind (taken for reason); lifting me instead above reality on a soft cloud of pure and simple glee.
My lost steps at dawn, my muscular runs at sunset, my distracted and nostalgic stroll; my movement - in summary - in/through three very different worlds, has successively found a common background in the powerful scent of night jasmines (cestrum nocturnum), ylang ylang (cananga odorata) and angel's trumpets (brugmansia), each in their own natural environments, closer to the sea or to the sun.
The architecture of my mind, usually fed by shapes, thus fades away. Buildings and volumes (full and void) are softened by a scent omnipresent.
Cities disappear. Flowers bloom.
* Ministry: The Land of Rape and Honey, Sire Records, 1988
Jorge Mejia Hernandez