Today Ayrton would have turned 55. Millions of fans have taken to twitter to celebrate his life, register their grief, pay their respects. I obviously share all of these. And more. Writing about him, it is writing about (part of) my own life as well: my feelings, my experiences, my professional life. I spent the entire week debating with myself whether to register anything on this day. I do not like to bring attention to myself; I really dislike people who try and be more important than the person they are actually working for/with (if you know what I mean). But only yesterday, after a talk with a Japanese producer for NHK, did I realise that what I am honestly not comfortable with is re living it all and, in the process, exposing myself and Ayrton.
When I finally managed to watch the documentary - months after it had been out in the cinemas -, on video at home accompanied by a bottle of wine, I was actually watching my own little life film shown back to me. Well, an important, powerful and intense section of it, anyway. As the film went on, I was going through all my memories of every event; how Ayrton really felt going through them, the bits he shared with me, the laughs, rages and stresses all those occasions caused him and all of those around. I went through dozens of his facial expressions, his mannerisms, his deeply charismatic way. And I missed him like hell. Most of all, I feel achingly sorry for his lost life. For the first time in 20 years, it hurt again. And as I write that, it hurts again.
It is all so powerful, I feel I need to to share a bit. So here it is some personal photos. "Ayrton, F1 is SOOOOOOO boring without you. No personalities, no opinions, not one intense character. The whole world of motor racing miss you much more than they think. Personally, I repeat, I only feel a huge, deep loss for you at such a prime time in your personal trajectory"