poland
On The Way to Odessa: The Road Is Life
The road caught us, flexible and free like a cat. Its yellow, silently smiling eyes followed us. Sooner than I realized, we were guided by the flow of the events.
Again and again the magic of things revealed itself in any rides and in the simple beauty of our encounters. Angels and savers, monks and royals arrived to us. Speaking without language, skipping the barriers of words and indifference. The embarrassment of the hugs at the end of each ride and the laughs of the non-understood are an exercise of mimic: training for gesture and instinct.
Un-pre-dic-ta-ble. The road is life and it is a teacher.
Some journeys (thankfully) just don't end.
Here I stood, at a forgotten truck stop, staring out from Poland on to The Czech Republic wondering why, and how. This morning should have been an omen. But I was too eager to leave, to be back on the road.
It all started when I woke up, opened my eyes and things came into focus. I realized I was still here in this same squat that I have been in for the past ten days. I was still sleeping separated from the this dank and dirty floor only by an even danker and dirtier foam mattress. I looked for the time, shit, eleven in the morning, I was already late. Rushing out of the room on the top floor and down to the kitchen I say my awkward English goodbyes. They say "maybe we will see you again," and I rush out the front door.
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