I want to go back in time.
I want to change karma.
I want to touch Simon’s crest sticking up because he put sugar and water (we were all broke and being punk started and pretty much ended in the kitchen).
I want to look in the mirror and see hope, without having to close my eyes.
I want to play with Ali, Samah and Mohamed and the dogs in Sanaá and drive to Big Sur just like that day with Kris.
I want to read The God of Small Things without knowing I would read it again, three times.
I want to land in New York and see the Twin Towers and know I could not be anywhere else.
I want to see Sausalito with the same light and go back to school with totally different teachers.
I want to be in Damascus at night, with Yahia, and take that same walk just at the beginning of the revolution, with that dim hope that things would not degenerate.
That hope is gone.
I want to re-meet people and have that sparkle light my eyes, just like then.
I want to listen to Claudio telling me again the long story of his trip Milan-Kabul on a Fiat 127.
Countries are closed, wars have vomited onto us, people have moved on, perhaps to other planets.
I want that red telephone/address guide I had in my twenties and now is molding in a box I will never get back.
I want to cancel choices, deaths, accidents, wars.
I want to enter City Lights Bookstore in S. Francisco and talk about Bakunin and buy tons of books like we did that Sunday morning.
I want to remember the things I happened to forget and be with Anna prior to her cancer because I did not say goodbye to her.
I want to apologise less and smile more but I need to apologise with Fausto because I treated him harshly.
I want to listen to Joe Jackson with the same intensity of the time.
I want to believe less the words I am told because I never learn to accept the discrepancy between words and deeds.
I want to open my eyes.
I want to change karma, for a day, and see how it feels.
Fact is there is no ‘I want` most of the times.