So, today, 20 years ago,
I was a new person. Probably a sleeping one, not an hour
old.
Today was a nice day. I met my brother, his fiancée, and
my little nephew of course, who isn´t so little anymore.

And now, in a sudden jolt of inspiration, I feel,
being 20..
Now is not the time to be in the military. It isn´t the time
to guard our territorial waters or watch radar screens.
Now is not the time to devote your time to your country, or
to be "part of the system".
Frankly, this is not the time to study either; it isn´t the
time we should spend learning, figuring out, trying to
understand our society and its rules, trying to get a grip
of the plastic organized world we´ve created for
ourselves.

Back then, we learned about life. How to arrange so that
we could get by, and do a good job in relation to the world.
Now, we´re learning about life in relation to the system
we´ve created to organize things, and to do a good job in
relation to it.
About leading a company. About banking. About economics.
Those are all our concepts, and although many work hard
to, only a few people can say they really understand them.
We spend our time just trying to comprehend how our way
of dealing with life works instead of trying to understand
life itself.
And doing that is the foundation of making a living,
presumably a good one; for he who understands the ways
we´ve manufactured can make use of them to his advance.

But that´s living in our world rather than the world.

Yet, these are too old thoughts in a too old world.
Where everything has been said, lived and thought, to no
avail, they must have been before.

But now.

Now isn´t the time for that. Now isn´t the time to be a
function.

Now would I be spending on the beaches; running and
sleeping on them, waking up with the salty sand in my hair,
and the breeze as my brush and comb.
And on the foam in the wave, above it, in it and between it
I would be dancing and falling.
I would be under the leaves when the sun is filtered
through them like so.
And my eyes would look up into that ceiling to see the
glowing pattern, taking in everything moving between it
and them, before the slightest gust of wind would blind me,
only for a moment, while nature rearranged, never again
becoming what it was.
And then a new dawn, with a new birth, would greet me,
again, again and again.

Yes, all with the setting sun as my beacon and the light of
the new day being the matron mother chasing me on my way.

But some nights I would trick her, running in circles to
bathe under the moon, or hide below the same hill before
she would find me.
I would run with water ´round my wrists, with my shirt
open and with my plate still in my hand.
On the limbs of trees would I sit, or beneath the surface
of the pond, between the haystacks, and under the stars.
Those are the moments I would enjoy the most. The
limited hours where every minute is drunk, every second
is different and the stuffing bursting from their fractions
as we speak.

These are the summers I am to sing about later on.
This, is how I would gather my lyrics. How I would feel the
tune intoxicate me, and the arousal deep in my veins.

Oh, Damn, this is what.
Oh, Damn, this is it.
Oh, Damn Damn Damn Damn Damn.

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