Shadow of the Wind

In a four hour hair appointment, you have time to read.  I promise that I am not being rude by pulling out a book and sticking my nose in it, it is what people do.  Living in another culture, that is what you do to fit in, you look around and you notice what people do and you modify your actions accordingly in an attempt to not become the obnoxious Americans you seem to see everywhere.  

At Garçons de la Rue, some people read novels.  I mean in the States there are magazines in salons.  Here in this basement salon with arched half windows which allow me to gawk at the shoes of passersby,  there are whole books placed in front of mirrors, as if begging you to read because the stylists know small talk marathons are not worth the 150 euros paid.  So, people bring their laptops and do work.  A man's haircut takes an hour.  So, I suppose it is fitting mine takes four.  I love Joel, the pink haired pixie looking german who somehow treats my hair as if it is a sacred gift. How can he know that he will spend from 6-9:30 on my hair and still smile when I enter? It is because of him, I don't have the heart to see if this is normal Italian salon behavior. 

After hair experience number 1, I realized I should bring a book.

And this time, it was Shadow of the Wind by the Spanish author Carlos Ruiz Zafron and last night he summoned ghosts and reminded me that my heart has traveled.  

Why am I so obsessed with matters of the heart?  I didn't use to be this way.

***  

"Daniel..."

"You're wrong about me, because we can be friends if you let me try, now that you know how worthless I am.  And you're wrong about Barcelona, too, because you may think you've seen everything, but I can guarantee that's not true.  If you'll allow me, I can prove it to you...

I will be waiting for you in the cloister at five o'clock sharp.  And before dark I will prove to you that there's something in Barcelona you haven't see yet, and that you can't go off to El Ferrol with that idiot whom I don't believe you love, because if you go, the memory of this city will pursue you and you'll die of sadness."

***

I thought about the loneliness that would take hold of me that night when I said good-bye to her, once I had run out if tricks or stories to make her stay with me longer.  I thought about how little I had to offer and how much I wanted from her.

***

"The moment you stop to think about whether you love someone, you've already stopped loving that person forever."