A week of ‘descanso’. The setting: A 500 year old mill house in Leon’s countryside, north-west Spain. The actors: A couple of old friends who I have known for over half of my life. The objective: None other but living the moment enjoying each other’s company.

The days flew by too quickly. Card games came and went. Reading books written by the very friend sitting next to me. What a luxury. Enjoying the silence. I forgot how much I love poetry and literature. So important to colour our grey existence. Lunching Spanish style at 4pm every day. Indulging in walks along the river. The autumn sun caressing the blackberries we pick and eat as we go. Farinelli, the horse, following us, thinking she’s just another dog. Hilarious. The nights passed lost in long conversations over Rioja and Manchego. Politicians are corrupt everywhere. Our generation, disenchanted, naturally. Directionless, without much commitment. Selfish? Living the present. Being present? Life seems so far away, love omnipresent.

The past is merely a vague memory. The future an insignificant illusion. The present a present.

Thanks so much for the quality time we spent together. Now it’s back to reality (whatever that is).