Traveling

In these days I feel as if I was traveling, even when physically I am not, I surf with my soul separated. Is not that I believe in this soul thing, but is a kind of way to speak about what we have inside. 

I dreamed about him, we were traveling in the very same train, and it was delicately decorated in vintage style, it was like traveling to past. 

Obviously there was no happy ending then, everything went confused even though the train was traveling in a straight line, everything was overwhelming surely because I found him, and there was no real me, but an antique version of myself, like the train.

I was remembering everything when I woke up, I remembered in a so living way that I thought I didn't need to write it. When I closed my eyes again the dreams walked away in the middle of the smoke, opening the way once again to chaos and confusion of that place where we are and we are not. 

The traveling partners that we are and not without even talk, so many years after the focused and reiterated habit. So much has happened in black and white from our arrogant portraits of our unlimited youth. 

Now, no train is going to drive us to past, no platform will recieve our bodies, no car is the past that in some other lives we swore to lose, no treasure will go to float after the fall of our ship.

Milza L.