I have quite a peculiar friend. Perhaps, me being who I am, that is not surprising. Still, this one is remarkable. Three years ago we met in class, where he wasn’t satisfied with things going on, the rhythm of those days and the ideas of the teacher didn’t agree with him too well. Through friends and family we got acquainted and ended up in the Irish pub of Leuven. There we got to complaining, about the subpar classes of some, and the subpar qualities of some students. It was on the walk home though, that things really started working out.
As we discovered quite unexpectedly, both of us shared a taste in music, and from uncertain mumblings over a Guiness, we arrived at my carpeted floor, discussing our music libraries, checking to which extent ours matched and playing songs both of us were certain the other would enjoy. It got late that night. The following months we would meet regularly, either here, or at his place, get us some drinks, lie down comfortably on a carpet or some pillows, and continue the music.
After the winter exams, I convinced James to visit Morocco together. Five days in the African sun. By then I had been travelling more frequently, but he had never been beyond central Europe, and regarded this trip as more of an exploratory expedition. The details can be found elsewhere, but safe to say it was a very interesting experience. We saw the most wonderful sights, of leather tanneries full of paint, geometric tiles on old mosques, markets sprawling with spices, woodcuttings and delicious smelling kitchens on wheels.
Many good tales and fond memories, but it would seem that was all I could salvage after the return home. Communications faded, and contact became scarce. James moved house and rarely replied online. If he did, he was often weeks late, and in over a year’s time I only saw him once. In the summer I visited his hometown, to the place he worked. A drink and a chat, then he had to return to his job.
But some weeks ago things changed again. I sent him messages through multiple channels, and somehow something got through. A week later we were on the floor once more, dimmed lights and music flowing from the speakers. It was as if no time had passed, and the same stream of songs continued. The following week I visited his new apartment, discussing culture, politics and love, late into the night. Then he returned here, and I introduced him to my lovely girlfriend. The three of us share one taste in music and only with reluctance did we allow the night to take over.
James is a curious person. He has an amazing talent for complementing, really getting to the core, subtly showing that he knows who you are. He will mention tiny details about your character and put them in a bright light, something you’d never thought about yourself. And he has one hell of a playlist.
