It’s interesting the feeling of age. I have so fresh in mind the sensation of having 18 that the contrast is wild. Let’s take the breeze. You can question the smell of it, or the temperature. But I’m sure that, if I fly now to Glasgow, the smell will not be the same than the one I remember. And I’m not speaking about the lack of tobacco smoke. It’s the novelty of it: the air now goes through my lungs in a different way, more automatic.
I touch the wall. Yes, it’s solid. However, it makes me remember the old stones of the black tower. Those were solid stones, despite of the multiple cracks and holes created by a thousand winters. I wonder how old is this wall, 30 years, 50 maximum? And how about the trees? When I started travelling, I was never tired of checking the smallest detail on the local vegetation. I was amazed of finding out that the local berries were not poisonous, despite of its colors, or that there were flowers popping out of the late snow. Now I look at these trees and I couldn’t care less about them. They are no more plants, but another component of the city, like the traffic lights.
Suddenly I feel so tired that I can’t continue walking. Fortunately, there is a cafe no more than 50 meters away from here. The Wien cafe. The name is not very appealing, but it will work for my purposes. Like one of the nurses of the hospital, I drift until reaching the door of it and I enter in.