Olvidar a alguien es tarea difícil. La mente, ese pez que se muerde la cola, se obstina en volverse sobre sí misma, como un cuento que no llega al final, un sueño dentro de un sueño, un túnel que conduce a una caverna donde murmura un mar sin sol.

Olvidar a alguien es tarea difícil.

Y lo es porque nunca termina. La olvidas una vez, la apartas de ti con todas tus fuerzas -y allí está, en esa canción, ese perfume, esa película. Encajas el golpe, respiras hondo, la olvidas de nuevo y sigues viviendo -y allí la encuentras, en esa calle, ese gesto, esa emoción. Así que finges no haber mirado, das vuelta y continúas con tu vida.

Que pasa de ser el instante entre recuerdo y recuerdo a ser una hora, una mañana, un día entero. De repente, quién sabe cuándo, vuelve a ti -y te sorprende; hacía meses que no pensabas en ella. Con una sonrisa a medias, te dejas invadir por las imágenes, el olor, los sabores, la risa y la lluvia; y en lugar de dolerte, te alegras.

La has olvidado, y sólo ahora podrás recordarla.
Y, tal vez, amarla por primera vez.

Round
Like a circle in a spiral like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending on beginning on an ever-spinning reel
Like a snowball down a mountain or a carnival balloon
Like a carousel that’s turning running rings around the moon
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping past the minutes on its face
And the world is like an apple spinning silently in space
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind

Like a tunnel that you follow to a tunnel of its own
Down a hollow to a cavern where the sun has never shone
Like a door that keeps revolving in a half-forgotten dream
Like the ripples from a pebble someone tosses in a stream
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping past the minutes on its face
And the world is like an apple spinning silently in space
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind

Keys that jingle in your pocket
Words that jangle in your head
Why did summer go so quickly?
Was it something that I said?
Lovers walk along a shore
And leave their footprints in the sand
Was the sound of distant drumming
Just the fingers of your hand?
Pictures hanging in a hallway
Or the fragment of a song
Half-remembered names and faces
But to whom do they belong?
When you knew that it was over
Were you suddenly aware
That the autumn leaves were turning
To the color of her hair?

A circle in a spiral
A wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning
On an ever-spinning reel
As the images unwind
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind

Michel Legrand, Windmills of Your Mind