Time

I just came back.  And I’m afraid to look back. I had so much time this weekend. It was long and nice and … full, of meaning. And I’m afraid to listen to anything else than Dire Straits, or to go to sleep and wake up to this nasty world. I want to go on a two hour walk. And talk. About important stuff. Or don’t talk. And hear the silence. Not background silence, total silence. Feel the warmth of an early November night. Not caring about getting your shoes dirty.

It was a long weekend. Foggy and clear. New and old. Blurry and yet I could understand every inch of it. Every second.

I never tried or never thought I like walking so much. It’s such a peaceful thing to do. Without plugs in your ears. Me. Just me and the silence. And my two guardian angels.

—————-
Now playing: Dire Straits – Brothers In Arms
via FoxyTunes

It sends chills trough my spine. Remembering all of it. And I want to do it again. I would do it right now if I could.

But where would I find the peace and place to go walk such a meaningful walk? And with who? I am not myself here. Here, I am someone that tries to get other people to like me. What an useful life I’ve got!

The song is set on repeat. Sends me chills every time he says:

These mist covered mountains

Are a home now for me

And I don’t want to let go of it. I want to get somewhere where I can escape the myself I’m not. The bad, evil, tormented one. And forever be the one I really am inside. A “Me” I barely know: capable of love, empty, somehow, but with an immense space to fill. Unlike the small me, the full one, the one I know. The immune one: colorful, emotional, happy, the weak one, the mask. My mask.

There’s so many different worlds
So many different suns

So many different sides…

It’s written in the starlight

Even the November fog is walking to give you the perfect moonlight, the winter constellations, warmth.

There is no ending to this post. As there is no ending to my weekend, as you never stop being brothers after you no longer wear the arms. It remains there in your soul, written in the starlight…

THe mist is sometimes rising, sometimes it lingers, to keep you protection

Time is endless


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