Welcome Home, Son

           There’s a band called Radical Face, and they have a song about homecoming, the act of arriving once again in that old place of familiarity, the place that now seems distant and strange. I listen to that song often here, in Barcelona; maybe because I miss home, or maybe because I’d like myself to see this place as home.

            It’s a strange feeling when a new place begins to feel more and more like home. It’s kind of like diving into a cold pool. The water rushes past you, consumes you in an icy embrace. Your skin writhes under its wintry touch. Slowly though, you grow accustomed to the new temperature, and what at first seemed hostile, now feels refreshing. Yeah, it’s sort of like diving into a cold pool.

            So I’m trying to make Barca home for the next few months. It’s not easy, but the water’s starting to feel a bit warmer, more bearable, even… refreshing.