Voyassitude

It’s scary, right? When the clock strikes midnight you begin the first of 365 uncertainties. What will you do, where will you go, who will cross your path for the first or last time… yes, it’s scary indeed.

You find yourself navigating through some fortunes or misadventures, through pain and love and doubts and joy till you reach yet another New Year’s Eve.

So then you close your eyes.

Go back in time.

Revisit places.

Relive emotions.

And thank God or fate or whatever force of nature gave you this freaking amazing 2024 because it went like this…

Jazz and Riesling by the Seine with an ageless Notre Dame at 2 a.m. to keep you company. The giant dog on stage where Fall Out Boy fulfills your teenage dreams. A yellow raincoat in London, Belgian waffles at The Burg, a spilled mimosa in Punta Cana with the family.

A broken heart one night in July because soccer sucks, a bike on water to reach semi-active volcanoes, and Pomme captivating you for the rest of eternity in Bogotá.

This year was a Coldplay song by the Rhine, a beautiful novella read in one sitting on a flight to Colombia, and dancing to cumbia from your homeland on a rainy Parisian evening. It was the Fifth of November depression, it was the Milky Chance exhilaration. It was 6,832 songs played on Spotify, 24 books read, and 41 movies watched.

And it went like bliss when wandering the solitary landscape of Luxembourg in spring, and it went like awe when Arcade Fire performed a midnight gig at The Masquerade. It went like sunshine in Carmen de Apicalá, Luna resting on your lap while palm trees and flowers all around speak of paradise right after hell.

Tulips and Van Gogh, Palestinian demonstrations, a date next to a castle, that pool party with mom slightly drunk; a ghost still roaming free in your head, the tour strangers turned into party buddies in La Fortuna, coffee and giant Squirtle heads with your best friend, and Noche de Velitas once again at home.

A wedding, a kiss, a black ring; two goals against Australia, three landings at El Dorado Airport, four Costa Rican nights, and five new countries. 2024 went like solitude, like Solassitude, like the void you can’t share and devours you in El Moridero sometimes. But it went like sheer happiness, too. It went like gratitude, disbelief, shock at the vast amount of spectacular moments experienced during these past 12 months.

2025. It’s scary as well. So all you can do is close your eyes again. And dream. Hope. Long for something, anything at all. Pray that it might be at least partially as magnificent as this year. Because if so, you’re in for a treat.