I love airports, the anticipation of what awaits me at the end of a long journey, but I hate flying. The emotional part of my brain tells me this may be the last time I am alive and whole, and by setting foot on this majestic and cold machine that can magically transport me to a place I’ve been missing for years, I run the risk of not making it there. But still, it’s a risk I must take and I always do wondering what if.
Once comfortably installed in the small space I am allowed to occupy during this journey, I try to take my mind off the macabre thoughts swirling in my head, and with the help of music or movies, forget that I am so far away from the safe feeling of having my own two feet firmly planted on the ground.
I vaguely remember hearing about Thievery Corporation. Maybe I even listened to some of their songs before. I have no recollection of that now. What I do know is that the moment I listened to Claridad and the suave voice singing in well rounded words, dripping notes of tranquility into my soul, I fell in love. It was a love I haven’t felt in years, not since I was a teenager and lay down on my parents’ bed listening to a big old cassette player that sometimes used to choke on the flimsy brown tape, the lights off, my eyes closed, letting the music envelope me in a cocoon of safety. It’s a love made of the sweetness of the moment and the bitterness of knowing it will never have the same effect as the time goes by. And after listening to Claridad for countless times, I thought this may, after all, not be a bad way to cease being – dissolving into nothingness, listening to the divine sound of love.
Claridad is one of the thirteen songs on the album Saudade (2014), a word used to describe “a feeling of longing, melancholy, or nostalgia that is supposedly characteristic of the Portuguese or Brazilian temperament”. Thank you, Google.
Please listen to it when you have the time and tell me how it made you feel. I’d love to know.