I was uselessly dead. Again. Like a forgotten oasis in the middle of a desert. But then, somewhere in between the screaming happiness, somewhere underneath the blue starry night, accompanied by the gentle sweetness of raw rock music, I woke up. Hello again beautiful world. Nice seeing you again.
And when the little boy in the train ran down the long corridor, away from his father, only to come walking back, I smiled. Because this right here has never been about leaving. It was always about leaving and going back again. And again. And yes, a three hour train is not really going to take me anywhere, but at least it's taking me somewhere. And the heavy backpack, like the tilted weight of the world on your shoulders, is a reminder. A post-it note telling you that the forthcoming journey may not be the easiest one yet, but then again nobody ever really got anywhere by staying in one place carrying a grocery bag.
So when this permanent shuffling of personal life and dea(d) starts scaring the shit out of you, take a breath, and make it deep. And when you don't know what day it is, just because a day becomes nothing more but a beautiful contemporary concept, take another breath, make it deep, and smile.
You're alive. Congratulations.
(Written on Monday, July 03, 2011 on the train from Rock Werchter to Amsterdam.)