Triana. Triana. Triana.
It is early in the morning. Me, as therapist, excited because it is my last day, sitting in the morning meeting with the doctors and the patients. Just two. A man and a woman.
And everything gets together.
Everything in one word. Triana:
I live in Amsterdam, where coincidences do not exist.
The woman, asks me curiously where I am going, what I am going to do etc:
– «To Sevilla? Oh. To triana? Oh! One very close person comes also from Triana, oh! what a coincidence!»
Excitement in both faces. Me and her.
Me for my future in Triana.
Her, for her memories related to Triana.
The other man listens carefully. And after the initial verbal checking with the doctors he asks:
– «Did you mention Triana? Do you know the group Triana?»
He shows his great admiration and love to Triana, the BAND.
His eyes also shined. I get melancholic and want to dance to their music.
And we have the last session.
As an end… I ask the man to choose a song from Triana. Historia de un amor.
-«You cannot dance it, It is not a song to dance»- he said.
But we danced to it. We moved our own memories and wishes related to TRIANA.
In any form they would take.
Pain, desire, openness, expectation, weight and strenght.
We danced, and shared without words. Triana.
And next week I will be there.
There. Dancing four hours per day learning Flamenco.
I cannot believe it.
Triana waits for me.