Acerqué mi cara a la taza y un vapor tibio me acarició la naríz y los labios. Sentí de golpe el olor a canela, tan invernal que me trasladó dulce y violentamente hacia el pasado. No se exactamente qué pasado, pero presumo que tiene algo que ver con la última navidad, la primera acá, la primera tan lejos, la primera tan distinta, desconocida y extraña que se vé, que dejé impregnada en mi memoria una nueva conexión. La de la canela con el invierno. Este que sabe, huele y se vive diferente.
Y ahora después de darle vueltas al recuerdo, de tratar de descifrar qué es lo que impulsó a la canela a quedarse así clavada en mi memoria, pienso en esa noche en que caminamos por el mercado navideño de South Bank. Los churros con chocolate que estaban cubiertos de canela y entonces después, nuestras manos olían a canela y nuestros guantes olían a canela. Lucecitas. Lucecitas azules. El río al lado. Nosotros juntos. El futuro prometía grandes cosas pero esas cosas aún eran invisibles. Jamás olvidaré ese invierno.

Y ahora entiendo por qué The Age of Magic llegó a mis manos antes que este café con canela.
Otra vez la perfección me desborda me desconcierta y me enamora.

"Some things only become clear much later. [...] Begin at the beginning; at the mid-point begin again, and at the end return to the beginning. Never move far from the alpha of life. Replenish yourself in the aleph. Renew the core with the alf. In A we begin and to A we return. [...] He didn't know it at the time. But there, in the train station, of all places, he had experienced a bit of Eden. [...] Everything they saw was wrapped in the mystery of first encounters. [...] Something of our deeper selves lives in the magic of first encounters. We try later to recapture that first enchantment, but only rare experiences reawaken it.
-Maybe we'll awaken the magic of this walk in a future journey.
-I suppose that's what a classic is.
-what?
-A work that has the spring of eternal freshness within it. It manages to be new each time you encounter it.
-Yes - Mistletoe said - But some time needs to pass for the magic to be renewed. [...] So they strode into the depths of the pub like enchanters, altering reality by altering themselves. All at once they seemed like regulars who had been away for a long time. They went to the counter and ordered two pints of the local beer and looked around, as if they were curious about the new faces they saw leaning against the walls, standing in clusters, darkening the ceiling with smoke. [...]"

"So books should be lived to be read.
And life should be dreamt to be lived"