Pizza with C.

There's something strange about meeting graduates from LGH... is it the changed roles, the acceptance of their adulthood, the knowledge that the closeness of former days is irrevocably gone? I had a first glimpse of this peculiar mix of emotions when I visited K. in his mathematician infested flat in Berlin last autumn. The boy, who had not found the words to say good-bye then, had now become, well, not quite a man yet, but something sort of approaching that state...
Of ocurse, there is also something very nice about visits from ex-students, seeing how they get on with their lives, just a mere half year after releasing them into the great wide open, with everything increasing, from independence, to responsibility, to troubles. Innocent youth has ended here, one might say, and life runs its course.

C., another close ally from the first generation of the LGH, and honourable keeperess of 'the hat', came by on a surprise visit last week, and we sat down for tea and chatted, as if we were still clinging to those (g)olden days, when everything was chaos in this new school, and we all felt just like a big family... we continued to go out for pizza and talked and talked. Even though there was no tequila this time, this meeting made me realize even more that once you let go of your loved ones, they unfold their wings and turn into butterflies. Dear C., it makes me proud to think I might have added a little of colour.