My journey

My journey began. I closed the door, shouldered my bag, crossed my little garden. One look back, a silent “goodbye” and I did my first lion-hearted step towards to world. I crossed villages and small towns, tracked through fields, meadows, rivers and a mountain range.  After one week, my feet started to swallow, showed blisters and I started to limp. So far, I could survive from berries on the road, little injured birds, and every now and then I stole an egg from the farm I passed. The little money I had, I spend only in a case of need. I slept under the stars, covered in my jacket. My skin became the colour of the earth, my heart started to be light as the wind. I loved the rain, because then, I could avoid looking for a spring in order to allay my thirst. And I enjoyed the peaceful width of the land in front of me. I assumed, that it would take me two more weeks, to cross the border and reach my destination.

My journey began. I could hear the horses outside. I closed the window, grabbed my bag and jumped out at the street. The carter opened the door to the carriage and I crawled in. Few hours later, we arrived at the train station. I gathered my luggage, strolled along the platform, waiting for my train. I could smell the steam, heard the dull rumble of the steel wheels on the rails, waited excitedly before I could catch sight of the loco. Once the squeal ebbed away, I climbed up the wagon, and took my seat. There was 5 people in my compartment. Three of them were reading newspapers and books, one was smoking, leaning towards the window. The last one, giving way for me to sit on the window as well, was an old men, friendly laughing. As soon as the train started to roll, the fields started to roll by, he introduced himself. Talking about work and family, business and politics the time went by quickly. After 10 hours, several stops, a few cigars a hand full blessings I heard the conductor announcing my destination.

My journey began. And this time, it was only me and the road. I already picked my favorite music, some sweets on the passenger seat. And there I go. Moving my head to the rhythm, leaning out of the window, feeling free – for five hours, before I got stuck looking for a parking site.

My journey began. The taxi was tooting, I hurried down the stairs from my appartement. I was a little late, but already checked in, only hand luggage. It’s gonna be alright. I emptied my bottle of water, impatiently waiting for queue the to move through the security check. “Final call…” a bit of running, a bit of barging, passport check, boarding pass aaaand stop. The gangway was crowded, of course, people sitting in the front seats are always embarking first. Makes sense. NOT. I was nervous. I am afraid of flying, it’s unnatural, but it’s quick. The conversations with fellow passengers have always been rather unexciting. So I crumble myself into the seat, and wish for the next to hours to pass quickly.

My journey began. I glanced at the watch. Half past 10. I am sitting here since 8 in the morning already. Give yourself a rest, they say. During the first week, we want you to be alone with yourself. To reflect. To retrieve your own voice. The world spins without you. You don’t need the world to spin you. I am exhausted from rushing around, from being at thousand places at the same time – not being anywhere at all. So I started the journey back to myself.

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