In the City of Men

Finally out of Poland. The days were singularly beautiful, and I spent nearly a month at home, reflecting on my future, with a pervading feeling of never-more, of a charming loss, and of falling silence. At least I leave with good feelings behind. 
It was a great month indeed, perhaps one of the most memorable ones I had in many years. Something changed in me, as if I returned to a home I had left behind long ago, very deep inside. Some vices, some obsessive behaviours simply departed, without any notice or effort from my side. As if the void they were hiding suddenly collapsed.
And now I'm in the City of Men. Does medicine say anything about hormonal tempests caused by approaching menopause? Perhaps I should check it. Amsterdam is full of men, all of them interesting, attractive, eligible. It makes fifteen years and more that I went out hunting on an afternoon like today. I catch their glances as I pass through Leidseplein. What does make me suddenly so attractive with these worn off clothes and a viral interpretation of an old Andalusian poem on my mind? Perhaps I have in my body the power of this singular moment when a life beyond life begins, starting right here where I stand, in this City of Men.