chapter Two, continued

to read from the FIRST CHAPTER

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EPISODE 4

no one to see

I'm free as the breeze

no one but me

and my memories

from Travelin' light with Billie Holiday

It hurt a lot, Laurent. Not my burnt skin. The canvases on fire. Most of my works painted during the École des Beaux-Arts. But I didn't cry over the ashes of that bonfire.

The next morning, as the sun rose, we left the port. I wasn't sure how much I was leaving behind... I had all my possessions with me, but it seemed that the years spent at the École were also staying behind. Memories turned into smoke had vanished during a single Parisian night.

If I had known I'd never return to Paris, I might have cried a little.

But I did not.

It was my first time on a such a huge ship. My first international trip outside Europe, actually. 

I'd never thought of myself as a traveler, and quite unexpectedly I was crossing oceans to the other side of the world! At first, the novelty of the vessel's routine and the sensation of movement made me thoroughly happy.

But as time went by, it started feeling like a prison. I felt like Rilke's panther in the zoo cage, going round and round and round, going nowhere -- though I knew the ship was ever moving.

Ports went by. 

Places I only saw from the distance. Places I didn't know, not even their names, and that I would never visit. Nor wanted to.

My heart felt peaceful, yet if sometimes painful, when I recalled my parents had died in a ship wreck... But I wasn't afraid to find myself on board of a ship, for no matter how hurtful, those were the faded memories of a little boy.

I didn't suffer from the growing distance that now separated me from the places I had known -- not the D'Allegro farm where all my ancestors had always lived in the Apennines, nor the Paris of my years of studies. Bland.

And I didn't feel any anxiety towards my destination -- the Île du Blanchomme was no more than an exotic name that did not correspond to any images in my mind. Blank.

I felt detached from everything. 

Days seemed incredibly long and plain, and at night I felt I was floating in a vast emptiness. Stars shone in the sky just the same as distant cities blinked on the horizon, and when they slowly moved before my eyes, I guessed they were other ships. If they blinked and disappeared to again reappear, I had already figured out they were lighthouses. And day after day, there was nothing else to be seen.

During those weeks on the ship, I dropped my meditation. Everything seemed to meditate around me -- everything was silent, neutral, empty, vast, uncertain, signless. And to my contemplative nature, life had itself become a single, uninterrupted meditation session.

I did not paint, not once, on the ship, nor felt any motivation for it, since that last canvas I had finished at the factory. It hadn't been a bad painting, not at all, and with it in my hands I had returned to the public hospital where they treated my food poisoning, and given it to the doctor to express my gratitude.

And I didn't make any friends among the sailors -- I did not try, I did not want them. At the end of my journey awaited Armand -- my best friend, my only friend, and that sufficed.

I drifted around my own essence, as the ship slowly and steadily moved towards my destination.

And my essence was that of the loner. But I never felt lonely.

An introvert, I rejoiced in isolation. Reclusive. Intentionally, spiritually -- I felt that was as much my destination as my destiny.

As usual, I felt more peaceful than happy -- and that seemed perfectly fine to me.

But because one of the ports of call had been on strike and the ship could not unload, I arrived at the Elder Sisters Islands some three weeks later than appointed with my friend Armand.

I was not surprised when he was not there at the port waiting for me, late in the night.

The port was empty, for no other ships had called in that day. The few locals with whom I could communicate were very nice but not very helpful.

No one had ever heard of the Île du Blanchomme -- at my question, they regarded me as a madman.

And I guess my thorn clothes were not helping me either in giving a good impression to the local people, all so tidy, using beautiful and colorful costumes like I had never seen before.

I had not thought of a plan B.

Actually, I had not thought of anything referring to my destination.

My friend Armand was the only plan.

That evening, I was so tired that I again slept rough, at the port, under the moon. Onto a table, because I was afraid the big tropical rats I saw around would bite me in my sleep, as if I were some kind of exotic food.

My body covered with sea mist, feeling hungry and miserably cold from the wind blowing, I opened my eyes to the sunrise. I was beginning to think I had made a huge mistake.

Anything could have happened to my friend, I thought, and by now he might as well have been dead. I had crossed oceans, I had changed continents, and the only reference I had was this awkwardly named island that no one had ever heard of.

Was I lost? Because I certainly was alone in a foreign land, with no money at all and a bundle of things to drag around -- namely, my easel and rolled paintings.

I felt silly. Either I was expecting too much from life, or trying too hard to change my destiny, when my best bets were to simply continuate the peasantry that had been our family history for centuries. My unrealistic dreams of becoming a painter had only led me so far to an abandoned factory and next, to the hospital, and now, I saw myself stranded on a foreign port.

'Carlo... Mate!' -- and that familiar shout ended my agony. I turned to distinguish Armand, tanned and his beautiful blonde hair grown, calmly walking in my direction on the pier. But I was so excited to see my best friend that I ran towards him. 

'Buongiorno! Bienvenue... I'm so happy that you are here, mate!' -- Armand's affection overflowed through his words and warm embrace -- 'I've missed you so much, mon cher Carlo! I thought I was arriving early to meet you... When did you get here? I was informed your ship would call in today at 7 am...'

'I guess the ship was three weeks late... but twelve hours early! Haha!' -- now that Armand was before me, my desperation had ceased and I felt like making jokes.

'Where did you spend the night, mate? You look like a wreck, literally... Was it this night? Or life on the ship was that terrible?' -- Armand inquired, between amused and worried.

'Don't worry, Armand. The ship was fine, and last night was nothing compared to how I have been living...' -- but still, I was so relieved to be seeing my best friend -- 'I'm so happy to be here, fratello mio! When are we going to the Île du Blanchomme? No one has ever heard about it, not even the locals!'

'Haha, I guess they all know it by another name... Luckily, the boat that heads that direction leaves tonight... If you'd arrived tomorrow morning, we would have to wait another week for the next boat!'

'You mean there is only one boat a week going to your place?' -- I exclaimed, still trying to understand the situation. Maybe it was having slept rough on my first tropical night, or having dropped meditation for so long, but I couldn't think quite clearly.

'Depending on the weather conditions, there is no boat at all!' -- Armand laughed -- 'But we are lucky! We can spend the day in town, maybe do some shopping if you need anything... Do you need anything, Carlo? I took advantage of the days I waited for you to buy enough food for the next couple of months, so that we don't need to come back here... any time soon... or at least, you don't have to... Where are your things?'

'I don't have anything, Armand. Just a small backpack, my easel and a dozen rolled canvases. And my painting supplies. The captain said wise travelers always travel light. I've taken his advice earnestly. Don't I look wise to you?'

'Mate, you look like a bum!' -- Armand said, jokingly, and then he changed to a rather worried tone -- 'Are you serious? Don't you have any clothes other than these?' 

'No I don't, Armand.' -- I answered, and it sounded quite defensive. Armand wasn't specially well dressed himself either, his leisure outfit looking simpler than anything I had ever seen him wearing before, but his princely manners and a natural elegance would have turned rags into design, and anything and everything he dressed adorned his discreet beauty -- 'Is it a problem for the Île du Blanchomme? I was hoping it would be barefoot elegance style...'

'Haha, you're funny, Carlo.' -- Armand stared at me, pensively -- 'It will be as you like. Let's go into town, and if you think there's anything you like or need, just let me know. You are my guest on this part of the world!'

And so we spent the day in town until sunset, 

and I ate mangoes ripened under the sun, as sweet as Armand's presence.

Bittersweet, actually. 

There was an unexpected and sad, tragical note to our reunion.

'We'll sail tonight to the island, mon cher Carlo, but I have to be back here in a week, with the next boat... I'm leaving to France. My mother is seriously ill. I should have gone already, but I was waiting for your arrival, and I prayed... to honor my appointment with life... and that means you, my dear friend... and the other one too, with death...' -- Armand's voice trembled -- 'I hope I can honor both.'

'I'm sorry to hear about your mother, Armand. And I'm sorry for being late... And... I don't know what to say... I hadn't planned leaving so soon...' -- I was disconcerted with that change of plans from my friend. Had I traveled so far to spend just a week on his island? And then... -- 'I don't think I have any where else to go...'

'Why are you talking about leaving, Carlo? You have just arrived! I'm sorry to tell you these news so soon, but I pondered you ought to know... So that we can really enjoy our short time together! And when I leave, I thought you could stay and run the house on your own until I come back... But we can discuss this later on. Let's get back to the port, our boat should leave soon...'

Nine hours later, we arrived at the tiny Île du Blanchomme, just in time to watch the sun rise.

Like a boy, I cheered excitedly at everything I saw -- the tall, elegant palm trees, or were they coconuts trees actually, their leaves rustling in the breeze, the fine sand shining so white, rocks of strange colors and shapes as if someone had sculpted them, the perfume of fruits rippening, the sea tinted with all shades of blue. My senses were exploding, and I realized how many things were perfectly new to me, as I ran towards the rising sun. 

'This is all so beautiful! I'm going into the sea to salute the sun, Armand! 

He is calling me! Aren't you coming, too? I'd like to swim... follow this golden corridor towards the horizon... Man, this is so gorgeous!' -- and I stripped down to my underwear.

'You can go on, mon cher Carlo.' -- Armand replied, calmly taking a seat and watching me while I hastily undressed -- 'Enjoy it! But don't go too far! Beware of the tricky currents around the island. They are really dangerous! That's just one of the reasons no one wanted to live on this island... I'll explain to you later... Now go on, I'll be watching you, I'll be your life guard, haha... I think I need to take a nap... It wasn't easy sleeping in town, I guess I've grown accustomed to the incredible silence on this island...'

Miracles do happen.

'So how was it, mon cher Carlo?' -- while I had been swimming, Armand had taken a restoring nap under the sun, and his lovely smile looked fresh.

'Call me 'Renato', from now on... In Latin, it means 'born again'... And that's exactly how I'm feeling! Armand... this is the most beautiful place I've ever been on Earth! I cannot ever thank you enough for inviting me here! How did you ever find this place?! And you said you've bought it! Mate, it is all so amazing!'

I was elated, in contrast to Armand, who serenely observed me as I danced and jumped on the beach in excitement.  I was aware he eyed me from head to feet, as if he had never seen me before... which, well, in a way was true, since I was being noisier and more expansive than usual -- and he had never seen me wet in my underwear either, haha!

'Well, I haven't actually bought it...' -- Armand explained, as I calmed down and we lay on the beach side by side, contemplating the horizon -- 'No one may own this island, but I now have the permission to live on it. And this island has actually no name... It was first called Île du Blanchomme by some bureaucrat of the Colonial Government, due to the only person that ever lived here before, a German engineer named Herr Weissmann... He built this house.' -- dominating the Île, beautifully constructed with the natural materials that could be found on the islands, was a suspended house which had all its rooms opening to a continuous veranda all around it, and to the gorgeous tropical scenery -- 'He was quite ingenious and developed ways of having energy and water on this tiny island... And then he died... Natural causes, it seems, but locals like to believe otherwise...' 

'This island had never had a name since no one had ever inhabited it, but it did have a function for the natives in the past...' -- Armand had a sweet, dreamy way of speaking, and his deep, silky voice, along with a precise pronunciation, made listening to his tales an addictive pleasure -- 'This was a "Portal Island", as they called it... Women were not allowed to give birth on the bigger islands, they had to come here to deliver... The belief was that the baby had to be born around sunrise, and towards that direction... Just as much as the old and the sick were taken to another Portal Island to die... And if they died before sunset, it was said they were going to be reborn in a better condition... What natives did not want was the transit of dying souls, and those to be incarnated, to unsettle the living ones, and that's why they separated and sent them to distinct places.' 

'Alors, this is one 'Birth Island' we are now on. Even though, occasionally, a baby or a mother or both must have died here, I guess. Herr Weissmann was given the rights to build and to live here because the Colonial Government did not want these native habits to continue. They wanted women delivering their babies safely at the hospital, and registering them under the law. That was quite a while ago, and now the island is considered to be sacred -- or taboo -- by the natives. It wasn't easy to find a boat who would bring me here for the first time... And it was even harder to find workers to rebuild the house, that had been abandoned after Herr Weissmann's death.' 

'Natives believe the island is still full of spirits waiting to be born... And because they shall never reincarnate, at least not on this island anymore, they find themselves trapped here. They should suffer an awful lot, because of their lack of destiny, without any perspective of change for eternity... According to local legends, that should explain the strong and dangerous currents around the island, to be found nowhere else in the region. The tormented wandering spirits cannot leave this tiny piece of land and are constantly encircling it in a frenzy... But it is also thought that the currents keep them from fleeing and haunting elsewhere. It's like... with their torments, and the more they fight against them, they are creating their own chains to this prison. That's also why no couples should be allowed to live on this island. Because, if a baby was conceived or born here, it would certainly bear one of these tortured souls. And no one wants that, of course. But it is ok for a single man... or two single men... to live here, haha!'

'C'est formidable this story, Armand!' -- I had exclaimed at the end of his juicy narration --  'So this island is populated with spirits... Even this beach is crowded, right now... we just don't see it, haha!'

Armand laughed along.

'Of course, I don't believe in any of this! As much as it creates a secluded environment for the spirits, it creates an isolated paradise for us, keeping the natives away... and that's what really matters to me! The hardest thing yet was to arrange a boat to come here and deliver supplies weekly... This is an untouchable island after all... but money does wonders everywhere, even here! And since the workers have fled... they said they were being chased away by the spirits... I did not try to find anyone else. But doing it all on my own is quite hard, and boring, and that's when I thought... Who better than you to help me? My dear mate and best friend! And I'm so happy you are here, mon cher Carlo! I want to share with you my plans for the house... I'm thinking of maybe even turning it into a small guesthouse... Aren't you hungry yet?'

'I confess I am...' -- I answered -- 'But I'm also hot, and I'd like to go for another swim...'

'Okay, enjoy it then! I shall start cooking lunch...' -- Armand stood up -- 'Like I said before, watch out for the currents. They are tricky. Very dangerous indeed. That is no legend!'

'Don't worry, Armand, I will. I'm not going far this time. And then I'll help you with lunch.'

It was not until late afternoon that Armand and I finished lunch. We had a lot to talk about and catch up for the months gone by, since we had last seen each other, after we had graduated from the École.

'But now I want to invite you to go to the movies... Let's go back to the beach, mon cher Carlo!'

'Movie... what movie?' -- going to the Cinematéque Française had been one of our best loved activities during the École... but on that island?

'You'll see...' -- Armand smiled, as he took me by the arm and led me down the stairs -- 'But can you close your eyes until I tell you to open them again? Do you trust me?'

'This is it, mon cher Carlo. I hope you'll enjoy it.'

I gasped as I opened my eyes. A couple minutes had passed since I had closed my eyes, but now everything was beautifully illuminated by the golden setting sun. I had never seen sucha miraculous light, infinitely beautiful -- and spiritual.

'Armand, do you want to swim towards the sun? I think I have to! Like I saluted him this morning, I want now to say farewell...'

'Hum, actually I had something else in mind... You know, it's not just one movie, it's more like a film festival on this island... I'll wait for you here, then. Don't be long, ok?'

'Ok. It'll be just a minute!'

Grazie, Dio -- I had started praying once inside the water -- Thank you, Universe. Thank you, Life. Whatever name or form you take, thank you for keeping me alive until this moment. Thank you. Thank you.

'Carlo, please come!' -- Armand shouted from the beach -- 'The other session is starting soon!!'

As I silently sat there with my friend, our backs turned to the most beautiful sunset I had ever seen, I have to confess I was a bit disappointed with Armand. 

He was certainly trying to be the best host, and so I should try to be the best guest... But staring at an empty sky seemed pointless to me. Unless it was another meditation technique he was trying to teach me...

Then, I suddenly saw it.

I sat there mesmerized, as an enormous full moon rose over the ocean. I felt my heart swell, and tears came to my eyes.

If there was one other person that like me cherished his privacy, it was Armand de Montbelle. That's one of the reasons we got along so well -- we understood each other's need to recharge in solitude, and as roommates in Paris we had respected each other's seclusion. 

It was thus such an unique privilege to have been invited to his private hideaway. And because he was like a prince and enormously polite, he had himself found me an excuse -- that he needed my help "to refurbish the place" -- but I knew it wasn't true. He could have brought the workers he wanted from Europe; he did not have to depend on the locals -- or me -- for his well being.

I needed him, much more than he needed me. He had always been the generous, loving part of our brotherhood. Paying for the rent and the food, being supportive, patient and kind. What could I possibly have given him in exchange? "You give me the wonderful opportunity to help and to share, and I'm so thankful to you", he once had said to me, princely.

After all those months of hardship, the deep and essential detachment I'd felt on the ship, suddenly I felt like I again belonged. 

To that friendship.

I had arrived. For the first time in years, I felt I had arrived, and I knew I was welcome.

'Fratello mio...' -- I liked calling him that, specially since I was an only and orphaned child -- 'this has been one of the most beautiful days in my entire life! I cannot thank you enough...'

'You don't have to, mon cher Carlo! I cannot express my happiness in this moment, either... And the day is not over yet... The night has just begun... Can I introduce you to the nightlife on the Île du Blanchomme?'

'Haha, after this superb film festival I'm thrilled about the nightlife... But not tonight, Armand. All I really need now is a bed.'

'Are you serious, mate? Then I'll show you the lodging options, haha!'

'Are you sure you're gonna be fine with this tiny bed, Carlo? I suppose Herr Weissmann had a child...' 

'Sure, this is a good enough bed! You have no idea how I've been sleeping lately, Armand...'

'Yeah, you keep telling me that... But I haven't heard a word said today about your life since we parted at the École... And by now you know most of the stories from my tour in Asia... What are you hiding from me, Carlo?'

'That's why I keep saying you are the generous and kind part of our friendship!' -- I replied -- 'But I'm gonna tell you all about it tomorrow, I promise, Armand. I have nothing to hide from you. I've never had. No one else knows as much about my life as you do, mon cher. You know that. We've always been completely honest to one another. I had never actually trusted anyone before I met you... And I still don't trust anyone but you! Now, do you mind if I get into bed?

'Please! But are you sure you don't want to share the double bed with me, Carlo? Like in the old days of the École, when we shared the bed on the coldest nights to be warmer...'

'Warmer, here? Are you serious, Armand?!'

'No, that's not what I mean... it's exactly the opposite... I mean, we won't be warmer... It will be cooler...' -- Armand seemed unusually confused -- 'The room where I've been sleeping is much more ventilated than this one...'

'I'll be fine, Armand. Thank you so much for your hospitality.'

'You're welcome, Carlo. It's really my pleasure!' -- Armand took a deep breath before suggesting -- 'I see you are getting red, mate. Do you want me to apply some lotion on your skin? It was given me by natives... prepared with coconut oil... powerful stuff.'

'Never mind, Armand. It will have turned into... a nice suntan... tomorrow...' -- it was impolite to yawn, but I could not help it -- 'It's always been... like this. I have the skin of a peasant... remember? I spent my childhood and... teenage years... working on the fields... and the sun... in the mountains... Oh, I'm... so tired... Thank you... for being there... mon cher...' -- and I had fallen asleep.

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