During our last visit to their island, which incidentally was their homeland too, while walking by the seaside or striding in the mountains, while driving between the pine trees or sitting in a cafe, I wanted to talk time and again about the past, exclusively about the past and that’s why, time and again I talked about the past in the beach or in the forest, in the road or in the cafe, whereas they refused completely to talk about the past time and again.
Years after that last visit to their island, I have reflected upon it and have arrived to the conclusion that although we had been friends for more than twenty years, during those twenty years I have only been interested in the past version of my friends and as a consequence of that I have refused the present version of my friends for twenty years. Naturally I doubt that I’ll visit them again although they invite me over again, which I doubt too.
