Life is going very well in Nottingham and my girlfriend Stephanie is enjoying her stay more and more, as you can see from her updates too.
My brother David was here over the week-end and we had a great time training together, talking and walking.
Work is well and busy and I am learning every day. We had a deadline last week and we have a big deadline this coming Friday, but we are ready for it!
Stephanie and I will go to Newstead Abbey the next week-end, if the weather is nice.
Newstead Abbey is the place I went few weeks ago with my brother and my mother, the former residence of Lord Byron.
I've written about it last time but I wanted to linger a little longer on it.
This place is magical for the many layers that exist at the same time in the same place in an organic and deep bond.
I want to draw your attention on how these layers are there at the same time, place and in such depth because year after year, decades after decades, centuries after centuries, people have loved, lived, died there.
This is one of the reasons for which I love history and I studies historic preservation at the University. What makes such place unrepeatable, unmatchable is the very overlaying of countless events, both physical and abstract. This place can exist only here and nowhere else in the world.
Learning about Newstead Abbey is diving into a chest of dreams - good or bad, happy or sad, important or frivolous.
Layer over layer, story after story, it gets more solid and its aura is more and more powerful.
Even just visiting Newstead Abbey leaves a mark, because every visitor helps preserve this fascinating historical place.
Different people should be part of it in the future, as different people have been part of it in the past.
Different people - from monks to poets, to gardeners, to servants, to lords, to visitors.
Different lives - a life of prayer, of writing, of working, of travelers.
Different dreams, thoughts, words, actions.
Every one of these left their steps, their thumbprints, their sweat, their blood, their tears, their laughs, their dreams.
And everything is linked by one thread, untouchable yet ever present. Time.