I hadn't seen my neighbor for much of the summer. I finally saw him tonight. He walked by while I was watering the plants. His hands were occupied with a crate of recyclables, but he stopped for a moment when I said hello. He told me he'd been in Spain. I mentioned my wife and I had been there some years ago and liked it. Where had he gone? Barcelona and Ibiza.
The Barcelona reference reminded me that my wife and I have a standing joke with each other in which the Catalan city plays a role. When we were on our honeymoon, we had an opportunity one morning to either drive in the direction of Bordeaux or towards Barcelona. We opted for France. Since then, we've promised ourselves in a not entirely serious way that we should have lunch in Barcelona one day. Maybe we'll see the stylish rooftops shown in the photograph.
My neighbor's mention of Ibiza made me think about music. I have some club music in which "Ibiza" is used as a sort of concept. The idea involves dancing, drinking, and sex. It's not complicated, and neither is the music. However, I enjoy the music, its contemporary rhythms and outlook, and a certain implied freedom that islands such as Ibiza seem to cultivate. Sometimes, I firmly believe I live in New Jersey, but my soul belongs to the islands.
