I wish I could have told you all that happened while on the road, but my voice faded and I never found the right words to share with you.
I did write down and photograph and record all of it, yet the memories feel cold and grey and distant, and I can only hope to have, with time, enough warmth to bring some of them back to life.
I wish I could have told you all that happened while on the road, but travel’s hardly glorious or glam, most of the time, even as many cities and even more landscapes are.
I wish I could have told you all that’s happened while on the road, or since, but I convinced myself the no-one would ever want to hear about grief,
or the logistics of getting from Budapest to Bruxelles to Málaga to Cádiz within less than a week from having talked myself out of the hospital, with a luggage I couldn’t lift as I struggled to breathe through the worst asthma crisis of my life and had to quite literally crawl up to my third-floor flat on all fours at least once.
Or the fact that seasonal depression, at least in my case, is as likely to be a vitamin D and/or iron deficiency as anything else.
I wish I could have told you all that happened while on the road – or since.
Yet here I am, living in port city once more, and the parallel lines of my life are finally meeting again.
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