Eyes closed. Eyes open. My daughter sits bent over in the snow, she just got a carrot from grandpa and grandma. The nose. Her posture is recognizable and timeless. Exactly the way she squats right now, she was squatting on Hokkaido on Lake Shikotsu. On the beach in Xiamen, on the riverside in Worcester. And now in Fiesch, playing with the first snow, of which the sky is heavily pregnant.
Eyes closed. Eyes open. I work my way through a massive crowd in the waiting area at the station. The police coordinate the flow of travelers, force everyone to form long lines together, a whistle blows every 10 seconds to let batches of the crowd get to the platform. Like a sausage factory, we are squeezed through entrance gates.
Eyes closed. Eyes open. We fall laughing and screeching into a gaping hole. Straight down. A second later we come above the ground again. Grandpa is amazed. A few more attractions – such as Joris and the dragon – and then we head for the pancake house in the Efteling, the best theme park on earth.
Eyes closed. Eyes open. Two students walk onto the platform. One drags a suitcase behind him. A blanket is tied on top of it. The second one does not care about suitcases on wheels. He drags his bedding behind him in a large plastic bag. A thin plastic film prevents his blankets from absorbing tracks that other travelers left behind.
Eyes closed. Eyes open. “Can you think of anyone but yourself for once?” A frustration buzzes through my head and I catapult it to Jess, even for this comment it hits harder than I could foresee. At high altitude, serenity rivals decadence, the sun beams towards the Matterhorn, I am ashamed of my blindness and regret. The bindings on my snowboard, they give me freedom.
Eyes closed. Eyes open. Two old friends approach the station. The optimism in their eyes contrasts sharply with the weathered felt clothes they wear, the colorless suitcases they drag, the buckets of bread, pans and tools.
Eyes closed. Eyes open. Silent night sounds beautiful everywhere.
Written on January 14, 2020