the nights are wild and long and the sunsets are deep coloured and mesmerising
I know of passion and of carpe diem, I know of living in the now and living free, no guilt, no pain, no face, no number.
I know of regret and I know of bad decisions, I know of falling, I know of being magic, I know of swimming into a sea of nothingness and oblivion. I know of being extraordinary and I know of being mediocre. I know of pain and loss and heartbreak and betrayal and I knof of belonging and being, feeling and the smell of fresh cut grass in the morning.
I know of love and loving and being loved, and being in love, I know of overcoming flaws and of finding true meaning in a sunset, I know of climbing the wildest mountains, I know of skin-dipping in the Mediterranean, I know of dancing barefoot in the grass and also of dancing on high-heels on the floor more expensive than my house.
I know of poverty, I know of absence, I know of violent caregivers, of loneliness and bullying, I know of about sibling rivalry and I know how things left unspoken will shatter a life to pieces.
I know of hugs and goodbyes at the train station, I know of reunions in strange cities I’ve never set my eyes on, I know of seeing such beauty, it leaked salty water and I know of feeling such joy.
I know of boredom and endless days that seemed to stretch out centuries and I lived for millennia through all the books I read and all the stories I listened.
I know of people, wonderful, amazing, smart, creative, hard-working, kind, thoughtful, funny, forgivable, unforgettable. I know a lot of them. I don’t know of mean, selfish, irresponsible, liars. And if I do, I do not stop.
I know of dogs and cats and raccoons and white mice with red eyes and hedgehogs and horses.
I also know of cows but I stay away.
I know of the salt and the sand, of the wind and the grass, of the seashell and Bloody Marys, of palinka and loud music, I know of appe juice with apples from your orchards, I know of silence and whispers and secrets.
I know of phobias and shyness and being quiet and being scared and I also know of starting over, again and again, with the same passion as the first time and I know of reaping the rewards of unrooting.
I know of unrooting because you get restless, I know of the confort zone and how seductive it is, I know of anxiety and fear and not being able to see a future, any future and I know of the future staring back at you with beautiful eyes and a wicked smile.
And I know of new beginnings and how scary they feel and I know of endings and how bittersweet they feel and I know of treasures and micro-moments, surreal, beautiful, amazing.
And I know of warmth and of love and of belonging and on lifting eachother up and sticking together no matter what, but I also know of leaving and never looking, erasing from memory and what seemed to be forever becoming a distant memory and a smell of dust in the wind.
And I know that I always, always, always have to learn when to leave — the job, the party, the souls — don’t overstay my welcome, the nights are wild and long and the sunsets are deep coloured and mesmerising and there’s no point in staying inside a story that met its end and that’s the only constant in this beautiful adventure that I know, I know, I know.