A strong memory of mine from years ago. Came to me the other day. I wonder why.
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   A random Latino siesta my Puerto Rican roommate took me to. Nothing to do that afternoon so I said yes. A backyard- full of Spanish speaking people that took a second look at me realizing I am an alien there. Soon enough we were all eating rice and beans and dancing salsa together...  difference and awkwardness became unity and friendly curiosity. At the dance break I entered the house. There were only children in the  living room, mostly girls. A beautiful little girl was sitting on the big couch right opposite me. Her big eyes were staring at me from the moment I entered. Deep, quiet stare. I just said hi. She stared back more without saying anything for a minute or two. I smiled.

"Are you a magic girl?"- she suddenly asked me.

.....I never expected a question like that....

"Why would you think I am a magic girl?"- I truly wondered.

"Cause, you know...you have this big nose."

It seemed she was finally verbalizing her observations of me and was calmly and confidently sharing them with me as we needed to address this invisible connection we had established with each other.

"I do. Do you think it is bad?"

Throughout middle school I suffered immensely as all evil kids would make fun of my big nose. I never understood why they ever decided to pick on that. I had never said anything about them or their imperfect or perfect physical features. After graduating middle school the size of my nose was rarely ever mentioned by anybody- and never with a negative intention. Now, it suddenly became a topic once again. The girl did not take her eyes off my face the entire time. Her intense look was multiplying the power of her simple and short sentences. I was put on the spot. My nose was the focus. But I felt secure. She was wondering about what she was saying as much as I was. She was internally figuring out the meaning of all this as it seemed she had encountered something unconventional and curious.

Her final explanation was:

"No, it is not bad. Magic girls HAVE those big noses."

It was that simple. Simple and concrete. The truth was just there.

"You're right. I am a magic girl but don't tell anybody else." 

 Magic needs to be taken good care of. Magic is a secret.

       There is the Old House. That’s its name. The Old House is in the lower part of the yard. The yard spreads on a slope from its top to its bottom where there is a very small river. The new house was built at the upper part of the slope sometime in the late 70’s. Since then everything was happening only there. It was the end of the Old House. It was abandoned and became a storage and home of the chicken and sheep. I do not know how nobody cared for it to become that. It is a beautiful and strong building. I blame all of them. The Old House is a ruin now full of hay and random objects, goats live on the 1^st floor. Although the roof is still on and the traditional wooden balcony is still part of the façade it’s a sad place. A monument of abandoned history and a ghost of a time I do not remember and could not remember as it was not my time. I believe I witnessed only a year or two of the house’s active existence. Afterwards, as a ghost it had always been interesting. But always stuffed with hey and smelling like animal poop. I never noticed it for what it really is and what it must have been many decades ago. I was too young anyway. Some things are impossible to notice before you grow to deserve that. The eyes may see something but the brain does not carry it much further than the object and its casual physicality.

 Just a few years ago I started noticing. I started thinking and wondering. Constructing a story of my own. As nobody could tell me a complete and undisturbed one I began enjoying that. It relates to the present time, the random objects and all the hay. There is so much in between that is left to wonder. Or left to disappear if nobody wonders.

But one should wonder carefully and gently. Play with the hidden spirit with care and respect. Come and leave almost unnoticed since one never truly participated. Or so I feel.

Time never stops for the Old House. It embodies time but it disowned time at some moment. It did not matter anymore. Its body and soul stay timeless.

To interfere is difficult and maybe not appropriate. But one should dare and look for oneself in such difficulty. It will take many tires.

My view of the Holocaust Memorial in Berlin. I was truly fascinated by the multiplicity of the rectangular cubes spreading over 19,000 sq m (204,440 sq foot) of land between the East and West Berlin of the Cold War...As controversial as it was for not mentioning any names and not referring to familiar symbolism, Peter Eisenman's creation is striking and fully engaging. Heavy. Stripped to the essentials. Monumental but encouraging communication and interaction. Depressing but hopeful. Strict and straight but lively. Repelling but inviting. Problematic as it should be.