The names of the towns and islands on the Dalmation Coast have vanished like dreams after breakfast. What I do know about here, is there was that big disco bar inside the cave where Markus got punched in the face by a BIG Croatian bouncer...
and that this was the place where we jumped from those very big white rocks.
Now, I am not one to plunge from such a ways by choice, the slap when the water meets the skin and other thoughts of painful consequences always outweighed the thrill of the air born adventure so I simply put the "high dive" in the category called "...Nah." or "Can do without".
On this particular day, however, I jump. For the first time since jumping into a sink hole full of catfish in Mexico about 7 years prior. I jump.
But does he?
What I love about this moment is the seriousness that builds up when one is considering anything a little too hard for a little too long. Be it to go to this school or that, take that road or this, the fish or the filet, the black or the brown, stay at home or go into town???
Markus calls this, The Porch of Indecision. Oh, I have had many a moment on that porch. I have turned scuff marks into road maps, rusty nails into arrows and the smoke from the other guys cigarette into native sky signals. The entire landscape of that porch, which bears a striking resemblance to the porch from Forest Gump's Childhood home, takes a rapidly shapeshifting form as I construct and deconstruct hypothetical eventualities, like playing a game of Risk. Ohhhhhhh....right. Risk.
Yes, when you choose you RISK. There are all kinds of things that come with choice. But no matter the choice, when you JUMP, you know, the faith kind of jump?! You set in motion. And when you set in motion the universe goes "Yeeeeaaah! Now we are talkin, been waiting for you to get on this dance floor for ages!"
