“I dream of Lórien. I am sitting behind a black table, surrounded by papers, in front of a wall where pictures of loneliness and desolation hang, amidst draft articles and piles of opinion that ask for my attention. And I’m flying into Lothlórien, the Dreamflower of the Middle Earth.
The green phosphor screen looks at me grimly. It is asking impatiently for its daily ration of formats and keys. But today – what’s wrong with me? – I just see on it the reflections of white foam over a bright blue sea. A sea under the sun: under that fierce and pasionate sun that eternally illuminates the Valley of Singing Gold all around Lórien.
I dream of Lórien. Lórien is an island and, at the same time, a forest (I do not know why I tell you this, if you already know); Lórien is a primitive, anarchic and very beautiful island, with tin houses that spread along white sandy beaches. In Lórien everything is still pending to be done, and you can live with hope at your fingertips, thinking that everything is still possible and the future exists. And the people are unassuming, and their feelings spontaneous and direct, and even murderers are able to explain what they do without resorting to sociological theories or brainy market research: kill – you see, live to tell -, and kill because they hate and because they love, and that’s all, and nobody agonices thinking about it.
In Lórien, time doesn’t count much. People are calm and tardy, and very few accept that appointments are imposed to them: they arrange to meet and, eventually, they appear, but they do not watch the clock or worry about schedules.
I dream of Lórien dream. And in the Lórien I dream of, no one raises his voice, and the fuss is just the aggitation of the streets, and the cops are not scary, even when they make loud flirtatious comments to the girls that circulate in bicycles, when the air liftes their colorful skirts.
Maybe this Lórien I am dreaming of does not exist. Perhaps what I am telling you is just a fruit of movies, books and tourist posters leaning out the windows of travel agencies.
I have never been to Lórien, and I will probably never see it. I do not mind. Better this way.
My Lórien, the Lórien I dream of today, is worth to me because it is chimera, because it occupies the space of the “non-here”, because it helps me to imagine that we could be others.
And I dream, and I go to Lórien to feel more clearly the distance with the things I see: gray streets, sad people. And I dream of Lórien to demand more joy of me, to think that we all can break with everything, that we can be tardy to appointments, that we can laugh at the sociological studies that explain death, that we can believe that the future that awaits us is not condemned to be a life-long time for tears.
Lórien or death. We shall overcome.”
May his words provide inspiration, as well as a beginning, for this blog. A blog that has been created to inform, in the coming months, about the process of creating a “Civic Networking System” that aims to facilitate citizen involvement.
Javier’s Jamaica, now turned into Lórien, will be the central theme for our dreams. With each blog post we will proclaim, with more conviction than hope:
“Lórien or death. We will become elves or… we will keep trying.”