Apparently nostalgia always plays a trick. We continually run away from some places, only to return to them again and again, unconsciously.
Yesterday I went out to take photos of a fishermen's hamlet that is very close to the house where I live (I still have a hard time calling it "my house"). I took many photos, I think they were beautiful, which I will publish in several chapters. I escaped from my small fishing town (Gibara), from which I decided to leave because professionally it did not meet my expectations. I have migrated to another country, I have crossed half the world... and all to come and take refuge in a place that is too similar to the place from which I thought I had escaped.
Florianópolis is beautiful, the quality of life is very high, but in my mind I keep seeing and looking for those images of a fishing village and especially the sea. I feel unable to get away from him. I have fled from one island to take refuge on another island, and if that isn't ironic, I don't know what is.
Al parecer la nostalgia siempre juega una mala pasada. Escapamos continuamente de algunos lugares, sólo para regresar a ellos una y otra vez, inconscientemente.
Ayer salí a hacer fotos a un caserío de pescadores que queda muy cerca de la casa en que vivo (aún me cuesta horrores llamarla "mi casa"). Hice muchas fotos, creo que hermosas, las cuales iré publicando en varios capítulos. Escapé de mi pequeño pueblo pesquero (Gibara), del cual decidí irme porque en lo profesional no llenaba mis espectativas. He migrado a otro país, he atravesado medio mundo... y todo para venir a refugiarme en un sitio que se parece demasiado al lugar de donde creí haber escapado.*
Florianópolis es hermosa, la calidad de vida es altísima, pero en mi mente sigo viendo y buscando esas imágenes de pueblo pesquero y sobre todo el mar. Me siento incapaz de alejarme de él. He huido de una isla para venir a refugiarme en otra isla, y si eso no es irónico, no sé qué pueda serlo.