Munich, Day 3

I don't know what and how it happened, but somewhere along the way I got lost.

It feels as if I hadn't been away for three weeks, but for much longer; and in a totally different world.

I don't know why but I can't seem to find my life again; my "old" me; the "Munich" me.

The problem, of course, is that if you plan a flight, you usually don't intend to come back. I never thought beyond those three weeks; I never thought that my life would go on, that there was something I was going back to or rather: had to go back to.

Now I stand amazed; disaffected; a stranger before all this: the people, the places, the daily routines. I remember what I am supposed to do; I just don't feel it anymore.

It reminds me of this book by Richard Powers, The Echo Maker: The protagonist suffers from a particular memory loss, making him unable to feel the appropriate feelings for his own sister. Thus, because his brain fails to draw a connection between particular emotions and the cognitive recognition of the person, he believes that his sister is some kind of spy or double. He sees that this person looks exactly like his sister, behaves like her, talks like her, knows all the things about their life, but because he fails to feel that this is his sister (instead of cognitively knowing it), he thinks that the person can't really be his sister.

I have the same kind of feeling; only that it's my own self and my own life I can't seem to feel anymore.