Sede Vacante

The light is on but no one is home.

Music and Memories

There is a very primal thing about music. It’s like the perfume of an old lover; just one whiff brings back a flood of memories. There are songs that are strongly associated with many key events in my youth. To hear them again brings me back almost against my will to where I was back then. And as with many scenes from my past, I suspect they are more vivid now being colored by the lenses tinted with nostalgia and the strong conviction that things were truer and more romantic back then.

I few notes of Clair Marlo (yes, I cringe at the thought), and forget my 35 summers, I’m 17 again crying at the loss of my first love. Puppy love? Perhaps, but back then I thought the world would end and I would never fall in love ever again.

On the other hand, whenever I hear Julia Fordham, I’m back in Palau. Hanging onto the edge of Blue Corner watching as sharks sleep, hanging near motionless in a 5-knot current that’s strong enough to shake my fins, and make my mask shudder on my face.

There are many other such memories. Songs that put me back on stage, on top of the rock faces in Montalban with the woman who would be my wife watching me from below, and 58m beneath the waves of Puerto Galera staring at a swirling maelstrom of a hundred or so Sweetlips.

Perhaps it was just a few dozen. But in my memory it was huge.

Life is little more than the memories that you keep. So why choose to live small?


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