I have several blogs unfinished. Seeing the works in progress don't propel me forward, but instead make me think I'm a shitty writer.
The post about Saint Maarten is left undone. My memories of that place lay in my mind, like the photos we didn't take, the memories stay there untouched and just for me. David is the biggest memory. There are no words when you meet someone you know you were meant to meet. When you are so different and come from two completely different worlds yet you are so similar it's scary. And you both say it. And it's not bullshit. I will have to finish that post if not just to do him justice.
But I remember the tears on the beaches. The cathartic way the sky and sand takes all the troubles away. Or for the moment, the solutions present themselves or the world at least stops for me and lets me breath when I never thought possible.
There was also Ludvic. A French man my age. He barely spoke English and I barely spoke French. He led me to a paradise when I was stranded miles away from my hotel, when I waiting for.....what was I waiting for? Hours had passed yet now I wish I had just spent more time there, on "the French side", where I didn't know anyone. But I worried about my friend worried about me (she wasn't). I worried about being hot and just, well, being stranded I guess. I felt like it was time to move on and he helped me do that. But he led me first into a spot where he lived where living didn't look possible. When I sorted through the grass, the weeds, and the hundreds of white moths, I came to a clearing. About 12 horses frolicked about. I was speechless. Where was I amidst the broken down palace that once was a hotel resort? The waves crashed where no one knew there was a beach. When he led me up the stairs, I wasn't scared. It was as though I was meant to follow. He had nothing. Nothing but water which he offered, a passport of his travels, and photos of his life, which were his son and his once girlfriend. We didn't need each other's languages. We knew what each other was saying. He explained the photos. I explained mine. He showed me his tattoos, I showed mine. When it was time for me to move on, he understood and was a gentleman. He told me only one friend knew of his place. I believed him. It was all too surreal for others to see.
Ludvic taught me as much as David. Ludvic for mere moments, David for ...well, maybe that's still unfinished.
