Home

It is night.

The wind lashes and caresses my face.

Gentle and firm.

I love the wind.

The wind is free.

It has no rules, no limits.

It cleanses energies.

It makes me feel alive.

It sweeps thoughts away.

The trees come to life.

Their canopies begin to dance.

The rustle of leaves makes them whisper.

I look up.

A starry sky peeps out of cloudy days.

The city is silent.

In the buildings only a few soft lights.

In the distance, the sound of a car and a group of mopeds whizzing by.

I walk.

I breathe.

The wind seems to bring an air of renewal and rebirth.

I breathe deeply again.

I breathe eagerly as if I can store this air and take it with me to remind me of home and spring when I need it.

Yeah, spring.

The beginning, the blossoming.

It is no accident that some people begin the new year right around the spring equinox.

I continue to walk.

Some say that walking is the incipit to get thoughts moving, to create new ones.

Nietzsche said, “All truly great thoughts are conceived while walking.”

And how can you blame him?

I feel lucky to be walking.

Of breathing.

I am alive.

I stop.

…

I look around.

And I look inside myself.

I am in the process of becoming.

I am everything.

And I know I am nothing.

I wonder if I am living the life I want.

I wonder if I were to die now, would I go quietly, without remorse, without regret.

…

I sit down.

I drink.

I resume walking.