I am the other face of Janus, the one that looks away from the future and into the past. I am the water drop that slips down the wells of memory.
I was born in 1969. I missed the Moon landing by a few months.
I can imagine my pregnant mother watching it, up into the early hours of the night, on that old black and white cathodic tube, which was the only TV set I ever saw in close quarters. How much she must have enjoyed it, my mother who loved to read stories of space travel and landings on other worlds. How great it must have felt to see the space age becoming a reality at last. How short lived that dream of people conquering space and walking on other planets.
I was born in a Mediterranean country, but too far away from the sea and too close to the mountain to experience the clemency of a warm weather.
This is a guided tour of the hallways of memory. It is the story of a romance with science and a rite of passage into many worlds.
I am half of a person now. My other half, the one who looks into the future, writes on other blogs about what will be. I have the less pleasurable task of writing about what has been.
I will climb upstream along the river of time in order to understand why I became who I am.
