Musing about fireworks and life
|"We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone..."
Standing in the dark guest room of our quiet flat, I watched through the open window as the black sky was painted with an array of colours. It was the end of the day celebrating the region and I hadn't known that there was going to be fireworks, until I had heard the explosions, almost like gunshots. Abandoning my laptop, I had jumped up and looked out of my bedroom window. Not seeing anything from that side of the building, I found myself there in the guest room, cradling my cup of green tea. The street outside the apartment blocks was peaceful, with only a few passing cars and a man walking by with his dog. As I stood at the window, feeling the cool summer night breeze caressing my face (strange for the middle of June in Spain), I suddenly had a realisation. Watching fireworks alone is a little sad. I thought about the people out there, celebrating together and standing underneath that cloudless canvas, and there I was on the outside of it all, separated by brick and mortar. I still found a morsel of enjoyment from watching the show; admiring how the colours exploded and fell, sometimes merging. They were impressive and even beautiful at times, although they didn't particularly fill me with joy. It made me think of life. You can go though it alone, but it's much more colourful and exciting when there are people by your side with whom you can share that journey. On the other hand, though, I was reminded of the quote by Orson Welles: "We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we're not alone." If this is true; if it is all just an illusion to mask our loneliness, we may as well be watching lightning in the sky.