A Lasting Vista

Here in this country, my son's house slumbers on the edge of a lake in a beautiful neighborhood where the day rivals the night in its calmness. The house consists of a basement, two stories, and a backyard that is surrounded by cypress trees. It is an extension to the neighborhood it is located in, and shares the same architecture. Here, in the neighborhood, all the houses are independent and their floors are close together. I am writing these details while other neighborhoods and other people inhabit my eyes. Have my eyes acquired, in these few days, an immigrant’s memory?! I am not an immigrant. I see things while my eyes are extending beyond them. They are my friends’ faces that are capable of transforming themselves, anytime and anywhere, into my lasting vista. I am not denying the ability of expanses to prompt us to remember things and people, I am not neglecting my voyage in other faces, but I am rather keeping myself in the communion of friends who are, nowadays, captivated by the invocation to “the twelve-wall encircled city”. From here, from this far distance, I send my greetings to friends who are engaged in serving the supreme beauty.