Slowly descending into darkness...

That is what it feels like. And I know that it is not real. It is an hallucination of my sleep-deprived mind.

But it feels like the real thing. It feels like if I was back in one of those very dark places where I used to dwell, where windows are out of reach, and light has been forever shunned.

It is only 6 pm in Delhi. If I fall asleep now, I will again be up for the whole night.

This is one of the hardest things of the fucking path I am on. What the hell am I doing here? Is there really a purpose? Or does the apparent absence of purpose, once you can't sleep, actually underscore that there is no such purpose in reality?

This sounds bad. But still, there is this huge difference--I know that it sounds bad. And I know that it is an illusion of my exhaustion.

Just sharing a glimpse of this insanity... Reaching out.

And Delhi came even sooner...

OK. I have arrived in Delhi. This is the fourth country, starting with Mexico, that I am touching in a week's time. The chicken says that this is the ultimate Rock Star World Tour--I call it the Monster Tour, as opposed to Gaga's Monster Ball. Hehe. But I am fully dressed whenever I make public appearances!

What happened in London? Well, it was by far less eventful than expected. But, it was interesting to sit there, with irrefutable evidence about the way in which governments disregard their citizens, face to face with some high ranking UN officials, who were saying "we empower the people to hold governments accountable".

You know....??? NO!

Don't give us that bullshit! If the UN claims to empower the people, then we understand why this world is so fucked up, why the huge majority of people are powerless, excluded, discriminated against and pushed into fucking oblivion! (This is the Rock Star speaking)

PASSION. We need MORE of it. We need it NOW.

London came to soon...

...embedded in the unavoidable hallucination that seems to be the by-product of jet lag. I can't sleep. And, for a change, this time I was not able to sleep on the plane coming here, either.

Whenever insomnia comes back, I can't help to think about some of the first lines of "The Fight Club", where Edward Norton says something like "insomnia is like never being completely asleep and never being completely awake". Honestly, I fail to grasp how I spent long decades of my life with acute insomnia. Sleep deprivation is, for certain, one of the most efficient ways of torture.

And here I am, in (not rainy but indeed windy) London, sleepless.

Thinking.
Floating.
Imagining.

Too many ideas and presences in my half awake-half asleep mind and body.

Time to turn off the computer and give it another try.

Mmmmmmmontreal, good bye...

... I am about to fly.

This was my first stop in what seems to be a challenging World Tour. First, Montreal. Then, London--with the promises of meeting big, big names that I will feel intimidated by, like Amartya Sen. New Delhi follows--with its merciless heat, buzz, relentless motion. Last, Geneva--the opposite (booooooooring!) But also, great great minds.

Montreal was sweet... A delicious dessert to gain strength before a hard couple of weeks up in the air. (Logic would mandate dessert to come afterwards, but here, the order of the factors did indeed change the result). A beautiful town, a beautiful evening, excellent company and a superb death by chocolate. I refuse to start thinking about rainy London, until I get out of the next plane...

Today, she would be 72...

... if she was still alive. But Mamichi decided that this world was not good enough for her, and started the journey towards the stars.

I remember those last days clearly, although they are sprinkled with her hallucinations and morphine speaking. She was calm and ready to go. But then, suddenly, she seemed scared, uncertain, filled with sporadic bursts of anxiety. I did my best to be there, bold and serene--with that same serenity she had always had, and which I admired so much. And I told her something that I believe stubbornly--that we would meet again, in other bodies, living different lives, being other people, but continuing to move across time in those little circles of souls that always manage to find each other again. I said that we might even recognize each other, as ancient souls that know they have been together before. (I am not so certain about that last piece anymore).

This mantra attached itself to my believe system when Vati died, and when I suddenly found a way to make sense out of the futility of his choices. It was a long painful process, which became serene and peaceful when he asked, looking straight into my eyes, "what are fourteen years in the face of eternity?" Fourteen years was what I had spent trying to see him again. Sixteen years have gone by since then. And I still believe, stubbornly, that our souls will touch each other again.

May peace, love and light be with the souls of Vati and Mamichi, always.

Kanellos, the dog...

Some time ago, the chicken sent me this link to the most amazing pictures... (see http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/gallery/2010/may/06/greece-protest). They are about Kanellos, a dog who seems to participate at all kinds of protests in Greece. Kanellos always sides with the protesters, facing water spray and paint, looking with serenity towards the police and waiting... What is Kanellos waiting for? A change in the tactics of governmental repression? A change in the ways of inequality and justice? Is Kanellos hopeful for the future? Or has he become a professional protester?

If I was to protest, would Camila come along, with her fierce determination, restless spirit, and sporting the ultimate model of Eddie's wheels? Or are we too passive and accommodating?