top of page


The poet Jorge Luis Borges, one my favourite, from Argentina, a wise, lyrical man, who became blind quite young, and who lived until he was more than 100, said one day that “we are our memory, we are that chimerical museum of inconstant forms, that pile of broken mirrors”. Are those broken mirrors just bits, fragments, of “now?” Borges is in my awareness today, his soft voice, his calm. His sentence evokes in me, the recent exhibition I was part of, "Memories, there is always tomorrow”. I participated with a drawing, which attempts to represent, amongst other things, "Now" … A few days have gone by, and as I try to live embedded in the emotions of “now” second after second (not easy!) I feel finally drawn to write about the exhibition. Not because of it, but because it was a special day for me. So many unexpected things happened, important, meaningful things, such as profound ad impromptu conversations about courage, God… and the visit of meaningful friends, with whom I have exchanged so much over the last couple of years.

Friends come and go, and then I finally wander around, preparing to leave. But yet, another unexpected conversation is meant to occur, with yet another person, that I just meet, suddenly. “I was once a typographer”, he share, in a circle of people, “ I knew how to print leaflets, magazines and newspapers, way before computers”. And then, with a smile, its just both of us, and that is when he tells me more things about himself … how he had an aneurism, an operation had been made to his skull, a hole in his brain . For some time, he has lost his memories and that, has transformed his life. He looks peaceful, relaxed. He takes out his hat and shows me the hole. But I just see grey hair, (because I am tipsy). A vague weird smile rests in both our faces. And we share thoughts about the unexpected gift of his experience, the experience of living in the "now" all the time. And we hug, a close heartfelt hug. "This is now"; we say to each other. And we feel it, “Now”, the buzz of it, vibrating in a single connected, muscular, bloody heart.

4 views0 comments
bottom of page