I met him very young, on a street corner in Makati, a neighbourhood in Manila, Philippines.
I immediately felt a deep connection with him. Perhaps it was his sense of humour, or the refined aesthetic quest in everything he did, the attraction to abstract forms, the compelling need to explain existence and share his understandings, or perhaps that sly complicity with which he related to others. I don’t quite know what it was that made me immediately trust him and follow him to his house where, together with Emma – his wife – we ate and chatted for hours, as if we had always known each other.
Almost fifty years have passed since then and wherever we met again, his gaze returned those same feelings, nourishing our communication.
I have admired his photos over and over again, as well as his watercolour works; I have applauded his virtual compositions and designs; I have read his writings, followed closely his important process of reconciliation and progress towards inner peace, but above all – every time we have met again – we have talked as if for the first time, for hours, until the day was falling and the sunset caught up with us.
Now that he has gone, that we will no longer have the chance to talk again, when I feel that otherwise I would have nothing very new to say to him because everything has already been communicated, life seems so brief, the moment of friendship so short.
The twilight hour arrives when we say goodbye and with gratitude, I ask for his luminous transit, while I continue to feel his warm presence.
Peace in the heart, Light in the understanding!
