Post Scriptum

There were things found and immediately lost before it all properly started. That’s why upon taking it I knew the journey was going to be a peculiar one. I was going to, as if, travel backwards; because what I could have been looking for I had already found (and lost) in act one of this story. I had already been at the right time at the right place. I had already arrived at the point of feeling inspired and safe, with everything falling into place smoothly, and with myself lightly surfing the even flow of events in the right direction. But then I lost it, so it was very hard to say where I was going to go from there. What exactly was I going to look for, and eventually what was I going to find? The answers were vague, or, in other words; quite apparently non-existent, nonetheless starting the journey was inevitable.

Maybe because of my previous experiences with setting myself in motion and pushing myself to new places I feel like when I’m on the road everything makes sense. Or otherwise; nothing really has to make sense, because everything is strange and SEEMINGLY random (but nothing is TRULY random really), so it’s almost as if it was making perfect sense. When I’m in motion I am me more than ever. The fragmentary me of everyday routine transforms into the real and complete me under out-of-the-ordinary circumstances. The body becomes happy; relaxed and at ease; and body never lies. It is happy when it’s in motion. It likes itself, it is gentle with itself and lenient with all its very own imperfections. And even if there are things and persons it will find itself missing while being on the road, it never misses them desperately or unbearably. It just misses them in a more common, more moderate bodily way. Body can miss things and persons quite joyfully really when it’s happy with being itself. The soul will always fidget inside it, the mind will always look for some doubts and ways to play tricks on you, but the body never lies, and there’s no way to fool it. It reacts to circumstances and events organically; as genuinely as babies do. So even when it feels weary of being itself; you expose it to beautiful sights it has never seen before, you put a pretty string of beads from a souvenir store around it’s ankle, dress it in a cheap sparkly dress from a gypsy market, put some sea salt in its hair, let it roll around some sandy beaches, or walk around barefoot on some far away lawns or pastures and it becomes happy, calm and accepting. It releases tensions, softens up, and begins to coo and babble. That’s why the body is not afraid of the open road. Quite the opposite; that’s where it feels at home.

Open road is inviting. It seduces you and embraces you gently, takes you in its arms and carries you away. There’s no horror vacui. New, unknown, empty spaces, free of associations and any memories whatsoever are like tabulae rasae; empty pages that you can fill with whatever meanings and memories you come to create on your journey. That’s why once you set off, it’s hard to turn back. Even if you’re not sure where and why you’re going. Even if it seems like you are starting the journey at it’s end and going backwards, which initially doesn’t seem to be making much sense. But maybe the beginning and end are just relative terms, and sometimes you just need to take a different perspective, step back, give it a little bit of time, distance yourself in time and space and only then try to decipher meanings, read signs and make sense out of where and why you’re going. When something feels so right it has to make sense, even if it is not clearly visible (yet); that one thing I’m sure of.

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