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"