I close my eyes and it’s December. I’m 18 again, singing the last song at a concert. I’m exhausted, it’s the first time I go out in months, and many more are going to pass until the next. I feel trapped by an insidious darkness, by something I don’t understand and that scares me to hell. I stand there in the crowd, falling down and down and down. I pray it’ll be the last song and I pray it won’t come to an end so soon. Here’s the refrain. I close my eyes and see it. Golden light warming my soul. I know that despite all my efforts to register every single moment of that night, this will be the only thing I shall vividly remember. Golden light. Then it’s all over.
I’m in the car, in the passenger seat. It’s a cold and bright winter morning of an ordinary working day. I am talking with the person next to me, feeling somewhat at peace, savouring every detail: the semi-deserted road, our voices, my back comfortably leaning on the seat, the rosy sky and the sun rising. I close my eyes, 9 years and a month have passed, and I see a golden light. I smile out of pure joy, cherishing the moment, feeling the soft warmth of the rays on my skin, and my mind goes back to that night, to the darkest end yet brightest instant, when hovering on the edge of two selves, when my fall finally ended.
Another year has passed. I’m at home, it’s winter again and outside the snow has formed a thick blanket. I look through some photographs, some recently taken and some others a little bit older. I linger over one of my favourites, finding in it that warmth, those feelings. The infinite possibilities of the self, the fall and the rise, the smiles, the joy. The Golden Light. So different yet always the same. Reaching my soul, showing me the way. Whispering I am everything I want to be.