justin hadad

goodbye people ?!

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Budapest, Hungary

I intended to write about impermanence. I’ll do that first.

Most metaphors are dumb but trust me for a sec. When I was in Sevilla, I met Jaad. We struck conversation because we were both obviously Arab, and ended up playing chess and talking about his travels for a bit. One thing led to another and, as you already read, he buzzed my hair with his beard trimmer.

In all likelihood he’s gone forever. Our conversations mattered minimally beyond their impact on us when they happened, and after that they blend all non-dramatically into the rest of the nonsense I/we have done over the course of travel. That’s not to say they don’t linger a bit; to me it’s kind of like the haircut (here’s the silly metaphor): it sticks around for a little while, and your environment may remind you of it for around a month afterward, after which it’s just a memory. Especially in modes of impermanence like these, it’s all just memories.

I woke up yesterday without my passport. I spent the day checking *7* different bars and clubs to find it, and, insanely long story short, I found it on the floor of Instant, a top-5 most indecent place I’ve ever entered. So to honor the fact that Instant kept my passport safe, I went back.

And I saw Jaad.