Àstrid Bierge

I can remember the first time I saw you as if you were right now standing in front of me. You wiggled your hipps to some rocky chords while setting up the barbecue stuff. “I’m Dave”, you said offering me your friendly and hard-skinned hand, “but you can call me Grampa”. Despite your bended body posture, your half-closed eyes and your slow pace talking, I could immediately feel the powerfull energy you emitted. “Okay, so you’ve really got something here”, I thought, and since I don’t think that very often, I just went for it and started unwrapping you with tones of questions. You talked me about Canada, mostly about how you would be swimming in some lake if you were there, a plan I later learned how much you were obssessed with 🙂
You talked me about wilderness, about how nature’s unexpectedness made you feel the power of its mistery. And with your genuine storytelling talent you narrated me your encounter with a bear.
-I was walking through the woods, looking at the ground because I was 18 and I was a moron, and suddenly I see a shade, I rise my head, and a bear is standing on its feet just here, at the same distance from me than you are right now.
-Fuck. And you’re here! You were attacked and survived, like Leo DiCaprio in that movie?
-Nah, it was better than that. I scared the shit out of it and it ran away. You know, I looked quite impressive at that age, girl – you said with a witty smile.

That was the first time. The last time I saw you, MF, you were also wiggling your hipps. With your “dancing shoes”. Even now I can’t help laughing about them. In the meantime, other than the partying, I like to remember the two times I got to be alone with you. The day before you left to your beloved Canada and the day after you came back from it. The first time we barely talked. Basically, it took you like 45 minutes to prepare 4 sandwiches for your trip. You were so concentrated, so sweet. I tried engaging you into a conversation but you were in your yep-nope mode so I just enjoyed watching you. A couple of times you lifted your eyes and kindly smiled at me, as if you were thanking me for being fine with silence. I took this picture of you that day, the only one I have.

I’m so glad I came to visit you when you came back. This time we did have a proper conversation. You were a discrete and delicate person, not the asking private questions type, but still, you had this cozy-sofa-soul that made me want to open up to you. And I did, and I’d like to think you did too. You told me about how happy you were with the way you had changed during the last few years, and about how you were still working on learning and growing and challenging yourself out of the comfort zone. We also talked about how true love comes from freedom and about how so many people get it wrong by loving in a possessive manner, blocking the free will of the people they say to love.
-I think we should be governed by social rules that were much closer to the rules that Nature planned for us -I told you, knowing that you would probably like the idea-. Current views of Good and Bad are still a product of medieval religious bullshit invented to control our true natural essence.
-Absolutely. But you can skip them, you know?
-Yeah, but to live under different rules you must first find persons willing to share them. Not that easy.
-Well, you’ve found one here, in this little town, haven’t you?
Hell I did, Grampa. I would’ve kept you in my life after leaving Iceland, I can tell you that, and I would’ve come to love you very much. It’s a pitty we had no more time to skip some rules together, but I will remember you every time I find free spirits willing to. That’s a promise.

PD: Can’t really guarantee I’ll think of you every time I drink Scotch whisky. Just like, for obvious numerical reasons. But I’m sure you’ll understand, buddy 🙂