A Flying Fish in Barcelona

A Flying Fish in Barcelona
I long for stability. Back in Barcelona and I’ve slotted into my old way of life despite 3 years having passed since I first moved here. Returned to the same apartment and a sense of disheartenment greeted me as I shut the rusted steel door on Barcelona and slunk into the cave I’ve grown to hate. 

I can stay for free in the ‘cavern’ but I find myself irritable at both the lack of sunlight and damp air as well as my willingness to accept such a place. 
Why is it that we make the same mistakes? Are we hardwired to forget negative feelings for the sake of progress? 

A mother said to me it’s innate for humans to forget pain. Otherwise, women wouldn’t have children after their first on remembering what it was like to give birth. 

Regardless of how we remember and understand the past, I’m presently longing to settle in one city, in one apartment and in one place. A film I watched said moving homes was the third leading cause of depression. Ironically, I watched that film in a new apartment in Menorca which I stayed in for three days before realising I was being filmed by the landowner. 

The act of displacing oneself from the familiar and embracing the new is as thrilling as it is unnerving. On first attempt, it’s enjoyable and exciting yet by the third or fourth move, it’s depressing. Maybe the answer lies in balance and the need to act rather than think. 
Thinking your way to the right ‘place’ is in many ways illogical; a person does not experience their life through envisaging it but rather, creates their life by living it. 

Barcelona is to me what air is to flying fish. Flying fish need air in order to survive and thus, fling themselves energetically from the ocean’s embrace in order to inhale the oxygen they long for. And yet, risk being gulped by a bird circling above. 

The chaos, energy and cultural richness of Barcelona is my air and yet, I sometimes wonder whether I risk losing myself along the way, as I gulp and gasp attempting to stay afloat. It could also be that it’s the right city for me and I’m thinking my way into an unnecessary place of confusion and despair. 

Whilst not much is clear amidst the pandemic’s uncertainty, I’m sitting in my local library with a face mask resting just above my nose and I have faith. Faith that there’s not a bird hanging over me, but instead a fresh breath of air which will guide me to the right ‘place’. Maybe we all need to be a flying fish every once in a while. 

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