Time change means days that are (relatively) warm and sunny, but end somewhat before 6pm in evenings that’s both warm and crisp, and somehow exotic and in-between for me.
It’s been just slightly more than 5 months that I’m here. That’s more than what I spent in Genova alltogether – and I cannot but compare, amongst other things because that time (more precisely the second half of it) was so far the best. There I had a true Mediterranean summer, here spring turned almost immediately into autumn. Time flows differently: in 5 months in Genova so much more happened, as normal when staying for a determined time, and in summer. I remember lightness, warmth and a feeling of free fall – here I am grounded, colder, and things slow as growing plants.
Today I miss my friends. The ones at home, and the ones in Genova and Barcelona, friendships not as old and deep, but no less meaningful and much more intense. And while I know that finding friends like the ones I have at home takes a very long time if not forever, I wonder if not finding people like I found in my ports is due to the difference in place, to sheer luck, or if I have changed so much since then.