moving

visited 17 states (7.55%)

It's sad to look at this map, full of grey. You can so easily tell where I am from, and I love this place, but it makes me feel - confined. I imagine the vastness of the USA or Russia Canadian mountains or all the deserts, and everything here feels so small. And I need space to breathe. I love all the places full of history and art that surround me, but I need space. I have been listening to America and Born to run and California and dreaming a bit too much about places I've never been to. I haven't been really travelling for over a year - yes, I have been to the UK twice, but it was visiting someone; it was an amazing amazing time (this post). The first time, I met with my best friend and another one who came across the ocean, and we saw each other in real after 4,5 years of writing letters. The second was two weeks with my best friends, again. But I need to move, to meet new people, to see new places - the last travelling time, it was 10 days in Italy, spent in 5 different cities, couchsurfing, meeting some amazing inspirational people. I need that, I need new air and new sky and new scents, new voices, I need being alone and submerged in newness. I miss the excitements of seeing the world more than anything else. I want to live my life to the fullest, and here I can't, I just can't. So. Paris. It will finally be a step forward - I will be couchsurfing again, the two people who want to take me in seem fantastic and hopefully everything will keep changing for better (because it's Christmas, and I am Catholic and believe in God, and the last few weeks, getting up at 5:30 for a Mass, three day Retreat, renewal of Baptismal Promises, singing hymns at midnight - it's all making me change. I can see it and it makes me happy. I don't think I have been smiling that much since I was a kid.)

The next red will be France. Then hopefully Latvia, Estonia and Lithuania. Greece and Portugal, maybe, but I'm not so driven to go there. I will be going to the USA. Summer 2014 is my dream. I will be working all year after I get my degree, to save money for months in America. And after that, I don't have plans, and I'm not sure I should have plans. It's a long time to dream about. 

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i don’t want my life to be like a novel. i have never been a novel person, i get impatient, skip paragraphs, skim pages in half-annoyed half-fascinated anticipation for the end. novels are prolix and complex and confuse everything the way that you no more know where is the story going and i do not appreciate this maze in the slightest. 

(most books i do appreciate are just overgrown stories, down to the core) 

i don’t want my life to be like a novel. in novels there is not enough place for word games and mysteries as they get too confusing if overused. i like mysteries and i like synthesis. i wish i could find a good metaphor for a novel, but at this time the only thing that stops my mind is desert and this is surely not a good word. (there’s sand in her mouth. and there’s sand in her hair. and there’s sand everywhere) i am too lazy for novels. i am too lazy for life. all i want is to be left alone quickly, with a turmoil in my head that i can turn around and observe like an ancient globe, and novels want my attention and my focus for a long time, stealing the minutes i would rather spend talking to myself and re-telling sentences, tasting them at my tongue. it takes too much time to read a novel, too much time to write a novel and too much time to live a life. (and yes, i am aware that living a life takes exactly as long as it takes) i keep telling people to shut up, in a kind elegant way, using fancy grammar structures and smiling, with a remote desire to murder them circling in my veins. wasting words. overusing words. it makes them worth just n o t h i n g.

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