Heaven can wait, we're only watching the sky
I remember writing lists.
Long lists of every single thing to go in my suitcase before a journey.
Drawing pictures of the clothes I was bringing,
making mixtapes- meticulously- weeks before the departure.
And even though I was probably 14 at the time, and spotify had to wait over a decade to be invented
I can miss the thrills of travel when it was all new and a big deal.
There's a very vivid memory that I treasure.
It is an early, early morning, misty and damp in the middle of May.
The whole family in the car, heading to the airport.
Suddenly we spot an elk standing proud on the edge of a small cliff alongside the road.
And Alphaville's Forever Young playing on the radio.
Listening to that song still gives me goosebumps because I remember the feeling.
Of being on the edge of something wonderful.
Now I think of travel as a natural part of my life.
It is still exciting, but in a different, more integral way (if that is possible).
Don't get me wrong, I love to travel. Love it.
More than anything else the feeling of being renewed in another place,
of meeting yourself as much as meeting others.
I cherish the smell of a place that is not my home.
Mostly, I love the thoughts that come to me while travelling.
Sometimes I want to think of travel as I used to.
When a journey was a 6-month project, not a quick getaway with some time to kill at an airport.
Or perhaps it is not the way of travelling I want back.
Perhaps it's a state of mind.
Kommentarer
Trackback
