ARCADIA

José Agustín is talking about Little Rapids on his book and I’m like “I think I know the place”. The name was so familiar that I instantly connected with Kzoo and not only because both are american cities like yeah right, it’s not like that. I wish I knew the exact total number of cities in the US.

I couldn’t rely on my memory so I automatically open the searcher to find out that those two cities are like -no shit- three hours away. That’s like Sabinas, Monterrey, for real.

So it happened like that. Magically I owned the book. The story was mine. I was there. I touched something from the author's words. We were close, or what ever. Trash trash in my head.

And that's not the end of the story, let me begin with The place's name: Arcadia. 

The fucking girl going to a place name Arcadia. I really don’t believe what my eyes are looking at. Well, that they did look at.

From all the places and from all the names, a match from heaven. I’m anxious to ask Rowena about the real  radio show's name meaning.

Was it after José Agustín’s Arcadia? Was it from the greeks? I really don’t want to know. And probably I won’t ask her. And even if I ask her, she won’t tell me the truth. And even if she told me the true, by the time the Arcadia from her imagination (or some else’s) and my Arcadia touch the common place, the information would be so disconnected.

Back to the places. Kalamazoo it was my Arcadia.

So damn cool that I’m not hiding this. So peaceful that I’m screaming and taking the thought out from my brain. I didn’t wanted to talk about it ever again. Bottom line: I don’t want to go back because it's a happy places. I don't go to happy places anymore. It hurts like shit. So, I block whatever it has to do with the happy place. 

But here I am. Loving to be there, in the memory road and not getting hurt at all. 

While I was doing the searching, I saw a picture of a beer brewing company in the city (http://arcadiaales.com/kalamazoo/) and I saw the river. I was so damn important. It was everything. A city with a river. I ran the place. I ran over all the fields and forests and roads. I was a runner and I ran the place. Not only Kalamazoo but every single city around. I was part of the Cross country HS team. It was cold, freezing, snowing and windy. But I was there, and I was truly happy. Somehow I manage to do well in the middle of fucking no where with no one I really knew around. If you could do that at seventeen years old, you can do anything in the life, in this little pale blue spot.