Paul Newman (January 26, 1925 – September 26, 2008)

All I know about Paul Newman is that he was a famous actor, so while I was reading the news and staring at the picture of him holding some trophy or something I experienced a surreal sensation going over me, it was the same sensation I felt while reading Nuria's email.

She said that the other day in the office someone brought up my name all of a sudden, so everyone started to discuss about my life in the army and imagining how I would look like with a butch haircut, then little by little the discussion died down to daily shores, and the subject was forgotten.

Vivaldi - Nisi Dominus, RV608 VII

09:50 23.09.2008

The world was set with a retro-futuristic style... We were a merrily newly-wed couple... One day she was violated... I sought revenge on the perpetrator... I failed in my vendetta... He escaped... He returned with more sinister intentions and minions.. Our lives acquired a fugitive tone...

It was blurring enough trying to remember it in the morning, let alone at 0855 of the next day while listening to a lecture. The thing about being in the army boot camp is the great deprivation of physical freedom - not being able to freely move around, not being able to move without getting an order. Every movement is conditioned, turn left, turn right, sit down, stand at attention, stand at ease, look straight ahead, eat, applause, jump, run, stop, drink, stand up, sleep, wake up, sing, gather, refill your water bottle, pee and shit, clean your plate, move forward, salute, go down stairs, change clothing and wipe the sweat off your forehead.

The picture of how openly and wholeheartedly you would greet and embrace your family and friends surface to your mind's eye and you take great pleasure in envisioning these images. You also think and dream(literally) about the sheilas. On the bus into the camp you looked out of the window thinking not about the days ahead, but about Evl, you knew why you thought about her at this particular moment, but that was a secret that you could never reveal to her - for maintaining your friendship's sake. The picture of her happily holding her niece by the beach turned you oblivious to the changes to the scenery and the dynamics on board the bus. You see her face, you hear her voice, you think about her life without you, and you sense two roads that will not cross path.

The other night you dreamt about CM leaning joyously in your arms. You were in an elevator that was going up. The setting was also retro-futuristic, just like Lang's Metropolis. Interesting.

The recurring images of them made the idle moments not only easier, but also blissful despite sorrowful at time. They offer a means of detachment and bring up genuine smiles upon your face. What's so curious about this fact is that the deprivation of physical freedom somehow brings about temporary freedom of imagination.