A diary entry

Definitely, hate the tube, bus and trains late at night. It is a desperate sight of souls searching-without-finding, quite disturbing. Almost in front of me a girl collapsed in Victoria and that put me somewhat off: an inanimate, frozen water-fall of yellow threads overflowing the ground, oh, God, such a frightening, dreadful view.

Back home, Bertie had a friend in the living-room and I have him told not to do so, a ginger cat. I stretched my legs in the couch and fell asleep and the animal as well... 8 millions of visitors a year, I heard, and if I had to draw the point of Brighton on the UK map, I would not know! Ha, ha, I am such an ignoramus... Well, of course, I just looked at it: Brighton is a bright spot located on the boundary of the land and the sea, in the normal direction to London. Today, more than ever, I guess, a beautiful, fresh day of spring, sunny, sunny, sunny.

I was to find the sea alone, as a lover meets a lover, alone. The place was crazy though, asphyxiated with population, a colorful stream of sun glasses, short dresses, bags and children from train to beach. In the evening, people cover themselves in disguises of sin and attraction, you know the type, and I am starting to be indifferent to it, although I disapprove. I am having a nice pint of Harveys bitter with my friend D., outside (it was good until it was cold), and this man falls once and falls almost twice as walking out the steps of the bar. In the morning and afternoon was possible to meet some solitude, however. The solitude of the sea and its salty fragrance. I enjoyed quite a lot. I wanted to remember a thousand verses of sea, but unfortunately, my memory is too lousy:

"En ti estás todo, mar, y sin embargo,
¡qué sin ti estás, qué solo,
qué lejos, siempre, de ti mismo!

Abierto en mil heridas, cada instante,
cual mi frente,
tus olas van, como mis pensamientos,
y vienen, van y vienen,
besándose, apartándose,
en un eterno conocerse,
mar, y desconocerse.

Eres tú, y no lo sabes,
tu corazón te late y no lo siente...
¡Qué plenitud de soledad, mar sólo!"

(Juan Ramón Jiménez)

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