On the shores

"This is fucking epic dude", he said. "I've got you, the fucking beach, the fucking lights, I'm tripping on fucking New Years' with my best fucking friend", looking straight at me, and then flashed a smile that was too big for even his gigantic face. I put an arm around his shoulder and from the far South end of the conglomeration of the beautiful coast of Goa we looked North up till the last light. A beautiful semi-circle glazed with a rich dollop of lights at at least fifteen different spots. Once you looked inside these little private fests, they were pitch dark. It was the most scintillating compound of light and dark in my brain and on the shores. Over 10,000 people conjoined in these few hours to bring in a year to be forgotten, much like the others, in dateless mentions. A great celeberation of the redundancy of what has passed and an empty hope that the future will be better. Most of all the feeling that the night has brought some sort of accomplishment with the wind and the substances. Something that did not up till then exist.

But it did.

I look at him, he looks at me. We smile. "I feel like I've thrown this motherfucking party! It's my party!", what I said to him, you said to me. The world comes another circle. A year ends, a feeling ends, a role ends, a phase ends, an idea ends and I hug you. I suddenly know what each one of them means to me.