You never really leave a place or person you love, part of them you take with you ,leaving a part of yourself behind.

The brittle moon and soft Soller sun witnessed my triumphs and heartbreaks with a thousand timeless nights and endless eyes.

I went back, in Memoriam.

I found there lingering ghosts, on the blistering summer sands and cruel winter tiles.
Dusty moments, unaired hotel store rooms and sticky stale bars.

Sharp Sa Calobra stones and words.  Sugary bunuelo moments.  Guarded Binigual secrets.
Every spectral step echoed.

The taste of honeyed Sobrasada and salty tears.
On the vacant beaches and in the clambering markets my empty heart crowded.

I left there, knowing that it was over.
My tenancy returned to Chopin, Graves, Nejeres, Salvatore.              

Neptune.

My Vandal reign absolved.
Mallorca, like those gone before, I’d pillaged and conquered.
But she was no longer mine.

(Angela Harding, 2011).

 

 

Traveling is not just seeing the new; it is also leaving behind. Not just opening doors; also closing them behind you, never to return. But the place you have left forever is always there for you to see whenever you shut your eyes.

(Jan Myrdal)