I travelled by land this time, relying on memory stagnating for ten years to get me from the station to where I was going – no route in particular. New buildings hid that plan from action, so I just wandered instead. Streets brought memories, yet didn’t.
surprised down memory lane
the wind kicks,
witness my steps hesitate
Stone paths washed with footsteps to enable a smooth shuffle, I was another tourist who looked down dark streets that evaded the sun. I noticed it was humid, I’d only remembered the cold.
interior design exposed and humid,
this lane’s light
flakes in a colour unknown to me
Searching for the unfamiliar, I found it. Last time I walked into routines, I learnt the city in islands, walking certain routes but uncurious as to what was in between. I walked those spaces and accidentally found things:
the singing chair,
breeze sea air
Exiled memories informed my steps but I broke the architecture of a shadowed past.
the backbone holds
lines against skies,
glass keeps weather from hitting the ground
I wandered alone to find the heart of the old city, fresh to me. It sat on top of the other one I held in my head.
a change in tone I almost feel
soon rubbed off on me its local hue
now I pass, fast
It’s just a street light.
I’d built my familiarity of this place with all the questions I didn’t know to ask.
Did this place seem new-familiar because I had so many blind spots before? I pull together events with a thin thread through time and place. But what’s mostly left is the things I think I learnt, misremembered like a dream that leaves its taste.
This city and I had moved on from the interdependence we used to have.
Short poems and photos from Valencia: