A few days ago I scanned and posted some old photos on Facebook for the delectation of friends, old and recent. The outcome was a thoroughly moving response by about 10 fellow students from a time long ago, which reminded of the friendships, likes, dislikes and, inevitably, loves, of my undergraduate days. One of these friends, Eleni, is also a blogger, and has expressed these same emotions very beautifully on her own blog.
It’s not monumental for others. This life journey is something we all go through, en route to the bitter end (as Placebo says). And all of us go through the coming-of-age ritual one way or another. Mine was during national service, but mostly during my time as an undergraduate. The optimism, naivete, hope, passion. Children disguised as adults. Children becoming adults. The world was there for the taking, and I certainly wanted, and still do, a huge chunk of it.
Perhaps our choices landed us on different shores, apart from what was at the time our universe. Apart from people we loved, the warm embrace, the soft kiss, the swift kick in the shins during a game of football in the Venetian town walls’ now dried moat. Our friends (and foes) all took their own path, followed their own journey, made their own choices, regretted their own mistakes perhaps. And it’s rather sweet to rediscover them and briefly reminisce, but also find that we have changed, as Eleni points out, but what made us friends is still there at the core sometimes. Peace and love, peace and love.
I know it’s a bit sentimental, I promise you a slasher horror story next time.