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214. THREEFOLD TWENTY THREE


blurred photo taken by my granddaughter who was laughing

This blog was started and stopped several times.

And here I am again to-day... recalling the past, living the present and planning the future!

I left France, drove to Cherbourg, took the ferry to Rosslare in Ireland. I am now proud to announce that I live in Wexford, a small fishing port just 26 km north of Rosslare. This place is just what I needed. A small town full of friendly people, narrow streets and old ruins, crows and seagulls, and the sea at the end of every alleyway. It is built on the side of a hill facing east leading to the wharf where trawlers are moored. Smells of fish and chips and what fish! Grim colours of the stones, the churches and the sky full of rain falling sideways in packets. Passers-by in Main Street smiling and saying hello to you, sometimes commenting on the biting wind. Nothing stops the wind and the rain here. It comes from way out in the northern Atlantic or from way out in the North sea.

I ran away really. Not the first time either. As my good kibbutz friend says, I seem to have a huge need and urge for adventures. Wondering where I get that from. The nomad's chromosome, I call it. This time, however, I had to leave in a hurry being accused by a young policeman of being mental because he did not want to believe what I was saying. But that's another story.

In France your age is very important. You're asked your age before people say good morning to you or just about. On interviews they always say the age of people before anything else. That way you can be put in a familiar jar with a label. They know your behaviour and your thoughts about education and food and politics and religious practice. They know everything about you once you're in the jar with the age label on it...

Escaping the jar! I want to live life and be regarded as a human being with a future! For my next birthday I plan to have three cakes, with 23 candles on each one. I'll blow the 23 candles 3 times and I'll eat the three cakes! Isn't it fabulous to have lived 23 years, once, twice, three times? and to be able to plan the future for more? Isn't it fantastic to be able to recall all these years and these experiences? and still plan for more? Why do they want me in jar with a label: used human, trash.
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