https://lightsoutfullhearts.com
I like Formula 1 and sometimes I write (read, vent)
So I may have went crazy at the prospect of winter break version 2 and made a blog. It’s about... who knows? F1 . Check it out if you want. I talk rubbish, always.
So it started in what I would guess to be around 2001, with my father napping on the sofa one non descript Sunday afternoon and some racing cars speeding around a circuit. I can’t even remember which circuit it was and I doubt I even knew that it was called a circuit – I just have a vague memory of the sounds and colours. I was eight years old and I was far, far too young to be looking for a love interest. I do not think we crossed paths for another thirteen years after that day. If we did, it was brief and fleeting enough for me not to notice. In fact, I only remembered our short correspondence when I saw you again, all those years later and after we had both irrevocably changed. You were the face that stirred my memory, but that I could not quite place. You were the Harry to my Sally, rushing by in the airport so long after that first road trip.
When I was twenty one, we experienced a brief fling. It was not nothing, yet it was also not life changing. Maybe I was not ready for that sort of commitment at that point, when I was still so young and in the midst of other distractions. It was in the cinema, when you first caught my attention. My housemates and I were there to watch some sort of generic romcom, I think Cameron Diaz was in it. Then you showed up, in the trailers. Rush. A story about drivers and rivalry in the golden age of racing. (Apparently. I did not know anything about that back then, of course.) The closer you are to death, the more alive you feel. It was perhaps a rather dramatic way of flirting, but I was undeniably intrigued. It was the first film that I ever saw twice, in the cinema. You meant something to me, even if I could not put a name to it at the time. I left with shaking knees and something swelling and twisting, in my chest. Still, I left.
