I learned that you can fall in love with almost anything: a book, a person, a city, a pet, a feeling, a hobby, a project or a place. In my head it’s all about how that specific thing makes you feel, and the chances are that very few will make you fall.
I saw it’s ruins the first time I saw anything abroad my home country. It made me feel free because it welcomed me young, far away from home, alone and new — a place that seemed until then out of my reach. It made me see how much it matters for money not to matter. And as complicated as that sounds, in those moments when I was bathing in the sun, listening to good music, feeling on top of the world, crying and smiling at the same time, I knew that it was as simple as “hello”.
That place is filled with history, and gives the impression that every single event left it’s mark on it. From it’s ruins and monuments, that are isolated within fences as testimonials of past lives to it’s streets and buildings carrying the marks of the past but shaped as to withstand a modern present and a bright future. It resembles a person that truly lives, giving me reassurance that I am right not to forget, nor hide my past — with all its mistakes, feelings and moments, to wear my choices with pride and try to improve and look forward to what’s next.
It’s almost always sunny there, a sun that exaggerates in welcoming foreigners, like wanting to tear abruptly something new from the outside world, a piece of every culture to enrich it’s traditions and to become the best it can be.
The streets are always crowded. I think that city made a deal for companionship with God. I don’t think it likes being lonely very much, but with the music in the taverns, it’s tourists and lively locals, how could it ever be that way?
It has the perfect balance of tenses happening in the same time: it’s a unique mix of nostalgia, adrenaline and optimism.
You can fall in love with anything that reflects you.
I’m in love with ruins.