Last night i went to the movies.  Half price day.  It was full, even right after Fat Tuesday had just been here not a day ago.  I guess more and more people are not Carnavaling nowadays.  Personally, i’ve never liked that bullshit.  We saw INVICTUS.  Good movie about Rugby and how Mandela took office in South Africa.  I would like to go there.  The movie reminded me a lot of District 9.  Same country, no? On my way home, i walked right into the  Year of the Metal Tiger celebration, an amazing display of really well crafted fireworks.  Bright and colorful, yet not so loud as to deafen you with it’s mighty roar.  I walked down the street, towards their direction for about 10 minutes.  My ear-buds pouring MASTODON’s Blood Mountain straight into my brain.  I stood a few feet away from the actual firework’s crew launching pad. I looked up.  Jerry Lee Lewis came to my fore-mind, as i saw literal Great Balls of Fire burst, combust and dissipate against the black backdrop of the night sky.  I stood there for a good half hour, music being directly fed into my ears, sprinkled with the roar of the crowd amassed around me and the detonations above me, a small heartache in chest, and lost myself to the beauty of the moment.

Small balls of white light trailed after a much brighter and quickly ascending sparks.  There is a moment of tension and apprehension as time itself seems to slow down to a crawl and the night sky is empty, lifeless, devoid of anything but darkness.  Then your pupils contract and your eyes focus on the miniature version of what must’ve happened 13.6 billion years ago, as the chemical reactions happen, and science is set aside as color, light and the random becomes present and quite evident -even to our noses!- and we see. We see those same Great Balls of Fire Jerry Lee sang about. We see miniature universes being born, expand at a vertiginous speed, reach their fullest and truest potential, flicker in and out of existence for a few milliseconds and then fade away against the backdrop, small tendrils of white smoke illuminated from bellow by the flash of cameras, streetlights, car lights, cigarette butts, cellphones, ideas, thoughts, feelings, emotions.

And as the last great ball of purple flame the hung in there an instant ago goes the way of the Dodo, a small white spark races up, freeing itself against gravity… takes it’s place among the other flecks of white light in the sky and bursts.  A green and red ball of fire erupts, and for those uf us who have spend hour pretending to slay mythological beasts by rolling many sided dice, this is what a mythical and fantastical conflagration must look like. This is magic being cast right before your eyes.  This is Gandalf wielding Narya, turning back the Flame of Udûn at the bridge of Khazad-dûm. This is you, coming from nothing, shining brightly for a second -at the most- and the fading away back into the memories of the onlookers gathered here to bear witness to the beauty presented before us, with eyes wide open, and slacking mouths, debating to mold themselves into silent O’s of amazement or stupid, yet equally silent V shaped grins.

Verily i do feel as though i have come to rest here, cradling myself at the base of the Great Ash Tree Yggdrasil.  I wonder what message Ratatosk must be carrying right now, and i let myself be nursed back into reality as the branches i see up there become dissipating tendrils of smoke, the leaves dim and fade and my mortality bears heavy upon me.  For a second… nay, for a fraction of a second, i yearn to hold her hand and slowly tear my gaze away from the skies and gaze deep into her enthralled eyes; see the fireworks reflected in her sclera, iris and quickly dilating and contracting pupils, see her smile and child like delight, oh so evident in her beautiful face, and feel one of those rare -but so precious- moments of singularity we thrive for, only to realize that the Anima i yearn for, if only for a nanosecond, is nothing more than the echo of what could’ve once been, sprinkled with a twist of what could, might, perhaps, who knows, even maybe, but not really, are you sure, even so be once again.  I see this and understand that slight heartache i felt earlier. Funny thing, it’s only been 3 seconds so far… 5 tops; and this is far from over.

The blasts of light that assault your senses trigger a flashback, and you see yourself being placed under a Christmas Three -right among the presents.  It is the first time you see a Christmas Tree in your life, but you like it here.  It feels safe, warm and not so distant from that womb you inhabited not a week ago, and you promise to yourself to come here as often as you can, because this is the one place where you feel safe… thirty years go by in the blink of an eye, and you find yourself standing on a sidewalk, gently resting your head against a stranger’s car as you turn your gaze up to the skies, immersed in your thoughts while you listen to music, and bear witness to a foreign tradition that feels right at home.  The bitter-sweetness you brought with you here dissipates, mirroring the way the light dissipates up there, leaving only the faintest wisps of smoke.

With a collective gasp, you hold your breath as the biggest, brightest and loudest ball of fire takes its place in the sky above you.  You have the urge to dive, and cower in fear -a logical and totally understandable genetic memory, triggered by the innate fear of fire we and all living creatures have- but you face it and let it pass trough you… and as only you remain, and as the last firework becomes just another memory in your brain, you smile and breathe out once again; the show is over and you walk back home.  After all, you got an appointment with the Lord of the Evershifting Sands and it is not polite to keep him waiting.