Lazy Letter: The Hill, Again

Lazy Letter: The Hill, Again

¬†Naya said to me the other day that you need to make up activities for yourself in small towns and villages like this. That’s true! We went out the other night to watch the meteor shower. Quite an activity, huh?! Guess where?! From up the hill, again. It wasn’t really a shower though, or perhaps we just missed its peak. I checked online for the exact hour, but you know how time works differently all over the Earth. I must’ve miss calculated.

We caught a few good ones, I have to say, the first one was surprisingly beautiful. It was long and bright, and the trace was left on the dark sky for a few seconds. We held our heads up the whole time. My neck is still a bit sore, to be honest. Tried to stay focused to catch a bunch more. It was a bit cloudy at first, we couldn’t clearly see the stars. For more entertainment, and to keep the boredom away, we made small talks. Everyone said things about stuff. Teyona told us about the course she took once on folklore poetry. She talked about the one poem they used to sing for the sun to come out from beneath the clouds. On rainy weeks, for example, when they’re sick of the gray sky, and they need the sun the most. Hiten asked her to please sing it for us. Teyon said that she couldn’t. Hiten insisted, and Teyona refused. We kept looking up to the sky not to miss any strikes. Hiten started to hum. Teyona asked Hiten if she knew any songs of theirs. I’d wondered the same. Hiten sang; this time out loud. She sang the same song twice; we asked her to sing again for we wanted to record her voice. So she sang again. She then told us about its meaning, why and when they sang it; it was for the sky to clear up. Perhaps for the stars to show. Strange how the sky was all clear once she sang her song, and the clouds just left. Perfect timing, perfect! We believed Hiten has actual superpowers.

It’s really calm here. This region is quite chill. I can relate, but I don’t really understand this kind of living. The fire is on in the middle of the town. It’s supposed to be on for one whole month, I believe I told you about it before. People gather for wine, to smoke a cigarette, to make small talks about this and that; they casually hang out. It might be before noon, or afternoon, or even past midnight, doesn’t really matter. It’s fifteen degrees¬†on sunny days, but it’s cold. Way colder at night. The fire is always there.

I sometimes get concerned that I’d forget things as I grow old, incidents, people, moments. There has to be a way of keeping them alive. Or, sometimes you should just let go.

Dec.17 – Messejana, Portugal