Wake up and let me tell you a story.
The years have passed and you too have forgotten. You told me once with conviction that you would not fail to remember.
Memory is a fickle thing.
Listen, my dearest. Every morning I go for a walk. I cross the canal, I stand on the bridge, I touch the tree -there are lots of trees, but I touch “that one”- I keep going down the earthy path, I listen to the ducks, I keep an eye out for a key, I circle the main road, and I enter the temple. If the weather is nice, I stay there for a while. During winter I just take the prophecy and I keep walking. I stroll around between the two huggy trees, then straight across the grass and back. Every morning is the same.
But today, I didn’t go. Today, I came straight to you. We need to make new memories. Because we pass the same places, we meet the same people, we talk to them, and the past lurks in those encounters.
So that’s why I came to you today. To change my memory. To put it in a different frame. I’ll say: Ah! Here’s the airport I was writing about Thomas. That’s what I’m going to say from now on.
Airports are a place where there is no place. You come from somewhere and go somewhere else. When you’re at the airport, you’re nowhere. And that, I think, makes everybody feel kind of… empty.
To me, the airport is a certain form of these parallel dimensions that science has discovered and timidly is confessing in public, and fortunately, quite expressly, Christopher Nolan is making into movies. They don’t say it on the news. Yet. To me, this reality of parallel dimensions, my dearest Thomas, it’s a fantasy. But in my imagination, it’s already taken shape. A dimension of reality where everyone will speak their truth.
Yeah. Funny, Thomas. Sounds funny.
That’s why this dimension will have lots of laughs.
Boarding time now. I’m going somewhere.
P.S. Summer. Time for some drama.