Some weeks ago, I wandered the streets of Dublin, between old and new. And after half a year acquiring much new knowledge, my mind wandered the streets too. Despite the hubbub of the crowd, I found silence. I did not take many pictures. I did not write anything in my notebook. My brain was nearly empty and for once, it felt… OK.
When the brain is vacuous, senses come to life. Our eyes can focus on the details of a painting endlessly. We can get drunk with only the parfum of a pink rose. Notice the song of the urban birds, the freckles on the top of a hand. Feel refreshed by suddenly catching the scent of the hills which stand a few kilometers away.
The city felt paradoxically familiar or, at least, more familiar than where I was coming from. It must be the atmosphere of the high street, the pubs, the double-decker buses and, over all, the language. It is strange how a foreign language can become natural or like a second nature.
