Eureka!

It seems ages since I last wrote in here but judging by the date of my last post, "ages" may not be completely accurate (aunque bien podríamos atribuir la incongruencia a una licencia creativa, un desliz literario, un desacierto de fechas). 

1. Belfast in a Snapshot: When we met for the first time, back in 2009, I never thought Jack would have such an impact in my life. He was the type of man I could have easily fallen in love with, but his paperback nature and the fact that my previous flirtatious approaches toward fictional characters had never progressed into anything but an erratic nightstand with insomnia made our future quite unpredictable. 

On the eve of my annual leave, I was hit by an idea that would change my future course of actions. I gained some courage, jumped onto a plane and crossed the sea...By the time I arrived in Belfast, it was pitch dark, temperature had drastically dropped and I realized there was no point in looking between lines. The new chapter could await till the following morning. Sunday welcomed me with feeble sunlight breaking into the blinders to which I responded with late breakfast and an onion metamorphosis (with load of warm clothes layers). It took me quite a few blocks to realize where I was standing and most importatly, where I was heading to. 

Three to the right, one back, four more steps. Full stop, next line. A few meters along the main road, next page, first paragraph. Belfast had that unique charm, like a phoenix rising from the ashes, which made it mysteriously appealing to the eye. I kept on reading. There were signs everywhere. How to know which ones would lead me to Jack? 

I kept on asking myself if I should follow the streetlights, the subtleties, the words unspoken...Streets had names, faces were real, the city was settled down. So was my mind when it suddenly clicked, the chapters fitted together. I was Jack. We were all Jack. This was Belfast. And the novel was over.