Bury me at the sea, I'll crush with the waves.

May 14, 2012


Who doesn't hate Mondays? The week is just beginning, but we're allowed to dream it ends, right? We're always allowed in our Monday dreams to grab the imaginary suitcase (filled with books, clothes and maps), take the old camera, a pair of sunglasses from some summer collection of the 70s (actually inherited from granny), take your loved one by the hand and jump in the dusty little convertible, which still hibernates in the garage... Departure. To infinity. Indefinitely. Not that we know where we are going, not that it matters at all. The road is filled with summer breezes and good music, food in roadside eateries and quarrels about the right way on the map. Because we don't know where we're going and each one of us insists. But this is the best about it. And it doesn't matter if we take trusted friends with us, or we meet them on the road. The important thing is that we'll travel with this immeasurable passion of the traveler, with the whole world, that is only waiting and wanting us to go around it, to see it...