First Things First

Here’s the thing about first times: they’re not as good as all the others in most of the cases and even so, none of the other times will be as good as the first in its peculiar way.  First times can be a single, unique moment in life (something we realise only too late). Many other times we also wish that something doesn’t happen more than that once. The truth is that there’s really something about them that makes it memorable: it’s something new. For better or worst that can be very special or, maybe, not – but that only time will tell.

Lasting lapses are all those moments; first or last ones. Some people have a lot to say  about it but some others have a lot to write on it; it’s a kind of exercise to get the hang of it, if you know what I mean. People seat and start to develop a very personal understanding about the world in general whilst about their own lives as well. To write is my lonely trip through India to discover myself. The difference is that I do all that without even leaving my seat: no check in, no airports or children kicking your seat in the airplane. Whenever I need to think about something I write and if I don’t, God knows how messy my life can be in a blink of an eye.

I know what you’re thinking now and you are totally right. This is also like therapy. It is. I will not lie to you. There is a blank page where you can write whatever you want and despite how tricky the mind can really be, the ones who depend on this to survive they really get their shit together and write. It works better that a chaise longue or someone staring at you saying ‘Hmm, hmmm’. Please be aware that we’re talking about the world in general; as you know the biggest issues in life go from heartbreaks – I am fine, thank you! – to the despair you feel when the prime minister of the country where you grow up doesn’t quit against its people’s millions of wishes and, actually, more than that, lives.

This is also a kind of commitment. I am starting to realise what I really want to do when I grow-up – even though I’m starting to believe it might never happen. It’s an old story, you know. The difference is that I always knew what I wanted to do but I kept falling in love for all the other really nice jobs I had. I also never really quit my dream but I never had the guts to say it out loud. So here it goes, and if anyone’s allowed to have a dream and follow it here’s mine: I want to be a writer. I want to tell stories. Even if it is a lasting lapse in time, read by a couple of people. That’s totally fine. At least for now!

Ladies and gentlemen, this is my first lasting lapse, thank you for joining us!

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