… about travel

Right now, I’m on a run. My dog pants in front of me, the trees are blurry in the corner of my vision and the wind is forcing tears out of my eyes, they are sliding on my temples, wet and I know salty. The sun is warm, just enough, its rays are piercing through the foliage; the reflection of the light on my dog’s white coat is almost blinding me but I don’t mind. Being here with her is like flying, it’s like watching the sun in the eye… Oh, I wouldn’t be mad if I lost my sight in this instant. My feet struck the earth, the leaves are cracking, and I laugh. What a rare feeling of freedom and lightness, so peaceful. I can scream if I want, sing, and play in the mud with my sweet friend, whatever my heart wills. The forest can’t judge me. The breeze in the leaves is music to my ears, the wind… it pushes me so hard sometimes that I skip a stride and it’s like I’m about to fly for a second, the smell of the wet grass is like a bit of heaven in the middle of that town of steel and tar and spit and smoke. No need to go far to travel. Right here, right now, 15min away from the house, I’m miles away, in a whole other dimension.

I can taste the air on my tongue, it’s sweet and metallic like a vivid dream. My heart is pounding, my lungs are burning and soon my throat is so dry I can hardly swallow my saliva, but God I wouldn’t change a thing. I stop running, too out of breath, my stamina can’t compete with my dog’s. “Come here girl!” I shout while I let myself fall on an old and crusty brown bench. She comes running to me, her tongue is out in the wind, she happily wiggles her tail. I reach my hand out to pet her head-
Somebody aggressively snaps their fingers in front of my face. I hate when people do that. I blink several times to reconnect with my surroundings.

— Wake up, pay attention. I better not catch you daydreaming again, sights my teacher.
— Sorry, automatically says my mouth but my mind is still miles away in another country ; at home, where I left my heart running on four paws.

There are so many ways to travel without going far,
all you have to do is let your mind…

ɹpꜟᶠᵗ ͣʷͣ ʎ



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Duskaz Pax

Duskaz Pax

Hammer poetry, and trash art. Transcriber for my mind, vulgar witness to my own fantasy; tragic psyche because so many things to scream. // war Pieta //