Flames in my Fingertips


"Real adventure is defined best as a journey from which you may not come back alive. And certanly not as the same person."
Yvon Chouinard

I've felt remorselessly bored at times. I've also felt extremely alive. But when I go outside and feel the wind blowing through my hair, through my fingertips, each time I feel I can fly one more time.

Dreams and hopes have drifted to another direction, and I feel I am excalty where I am supposed to be right now. And sometimes I think of how freaking much I love this city. How much I adore being in this beautiful, incredible country. It has been 2 years. But it just feels like a beginning.

Time is relative, as everything else in this life. I've bounded my soul to the roots of this ground, but I know the time for leaving is not far, not any more. There are things to do and things to see, things to feel on this planet. And we were not made to have one place of our own, but everything was made for us to use, us to enjoy. So when the road is calling we must go. The future is uncertain, but it was never certain to begin with. And it never will be. This is the beauty of life. We really do never know. So take today and make it count. Let the sweet smell of blossoms and pine trees in your senses. Let the wind in your hair.
We are all messy minded, trying to make peace in this clutter, we aim for something unknown. Or is it really?

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