Exhiliaration

There is such a thing as intrinsic value. It is the fleeting (but one hopes memorable) pleasure of a random encounter in an alien land, bridged by gestures and universal sign language - when what ought to be abject dejection becomes a treasurable interaction. Of a chance acquaintance of your kind in the most alien of lands, even if you have to resort to an unnatural, but still patriotic, lingua franca. Of the deep, heartfelt discussions stemming from travel, history and the fascination of how a pauper from Ferghana went on to rule India (or, the Marathas who ruled from Tanjore). Of the yearning for the girl that you think of when a night about town does nothing to any of the senses. Of the anthropological pleasure of music, and the associated visuals etc. that exhiliriate you, for very personal and inexplicable reasons, when the lot of friends and alcohol and all the above discussions do nothing to ease that vacuum in your soul. Of countering once in a while, that accusation of "inquieta" (completely true) laid at your doorstep in Barcelona.

Yes - if there is one thing that grounds me and allows me to escape the infinite occasions when things don't fall so clearly in place - at once parochial and universal - it is music. Music is the salve that makes everything right.

Sent from outer space.