Granada (Nicaragua) June 2008

The Flavour of Memory

Small things make the memory big.

The long-lost key, opening the door to a temporary home and making it possible to dip into an emotional world of ambivalences.

Seemingly familiar aspects fade away and the unknown becomes a dear (embosomed) constant.

So it is the recurring rain that keeps the soul warm, combined with the totally clear focus of the season, embedded in the continuous sound of the churches.

Chants, from sensual to ecstatic, strange yet soon inviting to walk in and sing along, timid yet in full conscience not to intrude.

Music rhythmic, loud and free, joined by the marches outside of the doors.

A small parade or the rehearsal thereof is taking place almost every day and is greeted by me as a sympathetic transmitter. 

Even the animals seem to support and refine this scenario with their sounds.

If the rain is pouring too hard on the roofs, one can see the men, who never carry umbrellas, in house entrances, timelessly waiting in their own pace.

Since there, it is never about letting somebody wait anyhow, to remain in the flow of the day -that is the goal.

This is an attitude that fascinates me anew every time and also sets my inner pace carefully.

It is a gentle flow, easy, also melancholic, but never sad. 

As the synthetic covers of the market place point toward the sky, as distinct do I feel the transparency of my senses. I smile frequently.

I don’t know the paths and I don’t try to find guidance. My plan is to perceive my seemingly purposeless walking without any filters. For hours.

The cold floors in the old houses cool down my heated body, the patterns of the tiles scatter flowers of cheerfulness and whet the appetite to remain on that meadow.

In this way of relaxation I embed my reflections.

I take pictures of these patterns.

Later, the accessible church towers capture my desire; their high platforms become my outposts.

The density of the streets remains ascertainable and culminates in the wish, to approach this incessantly streaming energy with the camera.

There are the people of Nicaragua.

I have arrived.

Claudia Nebel