Due to the myth that North Mallorca should be avoided during the winter because of nasty rain, has Alcudia beach been going through a metamorphosis since the end of October. From seven kilometers of overcrowded beach have a nature reserve emerged.
A three star paradise nearly for our exclusive use. Once again we are overwhelmed and are beside ourselves with joy. Our happiness excess we export to L who is still mourning her lost. She lost not only one third of her brain during the life saving brain tumor operation, but also parts of her memory, fitness, working ability and self confidence. The greatest lost is the lost of identity.
“The greatest lost is the
lost of identity.”
No way leads back to normal life. When I call her it appears she is already mourning her inevitable lost of life. She firmly believes it is her last day on earth. A black day. Every day. Without a battle she is giving up. She questions the meaning of life, her life. There is no instant, cheering, honest answer that easily dispels her melancholy. Everything we do appears completely useless. No matter what we do to cheer her up. We send messages, our love, pictures. We call her. Still her mood is faltering. We are drowning her with messages, love, pictures. We don’t call anymore as we realize she is sensible enough to perceive our deep concern. At that moment is she so deep down we can’t expect her to be able to act. We are not giving up our friend. We are desperate. Among all daily messages we send a question: Would she like to join our secluded little paradise? The answer comes instantly: