And with That, Expirer.

Today felt like a farewell, like Collioure was telling me to continue on my journey. The Southern, Spanish, September winds blew ferociously today, the sun hiding behind thick clouds with no signs of wavering. It felt like a gift though; I added a small piece of art to my arm and did not want to be tempted by the usual relief of the crystal water. The piece is simple: expirer. To breathe out, to exhale. That is what this trip has felt like, one large exhale. My whole being melting back into itself, a reminder that it was always oeey and gooey and eternally intertwined with itself to begin with.

As I write this, there is a large swell of beautiful French voices joining together singing traditional Catalan songs, a sort of cultural festival in the square just below by balcony. Another send off, it feels.

I took a pause there because as the festival below me ended, I saw the distant sky begin to light up. I have moved my chair to the other balcony and can see just over the rooftops a sky full of fireworks, erupting out of the port just a couple miles south of Collioure. My farewell fireworks.

This trip has been the essence of being. There really is nothing to do in this town. Eat, wander, swim and lay in the sun. The days I like best are the days when I almost say nothing outside of ordering food (which I have gotten much better as, by the last day of course and as always). What is there to say? I only feel. I think that is why when I meet people, there is always a point, and it usually does not take long, when I simply slip away back into my solitude. Everyone always wants to talk too much. I love the brief, beautiful connections; the random jazz concerts and impromptu adventures. It makes my trips, but maybe I love them because of their passing nature. If I linger too long, the shimmer softens. I suppose it is hard for me to connect instantly like some people so I like the mushroom cloud of vibration when a new person enters my field but escape before the dust settles. There's a magic in the momentary-ness. You'd think I was Irish.

For now, in the haze of firework smoke and Catalan tunes, I kiss Collioure goodbye, with gratitude for the reset. And I have to check myself, this moment is not done yet. With Collioure as I type this, and even tomorrow as I travel back for one more night with my love, Barcelona.