Travelling–Whatever Happened Was Always Good

Posted: November 25, 2018 in Musings

Wise Friend,

I love your passion and interconnection with people and places–and the way you really get into where you are rather than skin-graft yourself onto it for the duration.

Travelling Friend,

What if I end up living there? There were so many twists and turns in my life I settle wherever I land. How was your long, long trip?

Wise Friend,

Well, the time of recounting has come again. I travelled, I’ve seen new places or places anew, I’ve met people, I’ve worked, and I’ve lost track of my life.

Traveling Friend,

I know you don’t like when people ask you whether you’re excited before your travels. So how was it?

Wise Friend,

Funny, I get annoyed when they ask me, “Are you excited?”

I told them numerous times I plan, I book tickets, hotels, and then I forget. I don’t like to get excited, to dream before my trips. I end up loving each trip as I travelled with no expectations. Whatever will happen will happen. Whatever happened was always good.

Traveling Friend,

But why annoyed?

Wise Friend,

I said the same things so many times, for so many years. A mad desire to have friends remember what I said.

At the end of my travels, I wrote to everybody I met no man. I wanted to reduce the level of anxiety for those friends, who tend to fantasise for me when I travel.

New friends introduced me to men, I had some dates, too few, too boring, the same as in London, Sydney or LA. I think God sent me to many cities in the world and transplanted these men for me to start again and again.

I’m probably supposed to learn something, and I just don’t get it. So this is a joke of life and jokes shouldn’t be taken seriously.

Off this subject, to other things that happened to you!

Traveling Friend,

A while ago I went back to Long Beach Long Island. Initially, I planned to go to Manhattan and see some galleries, too. I stayed in Long Beach.

I could not part from the beach. The weather wasn’t great, which made it perfect as the beach was empty and Proustian. It had incredible lights, all nuances of greys, no greens, no blues. It was misty all the time, and the thickness of the mist made me want to paint. As I never done before, I let myself imagine what would I have painted, how, and captured.

I “forced” my aunt, where I stayed, 80 years old, to walk a bit with me and she could not understand my happiness. To her the weather was awful, and she was feeling guilty that I came during such weather. In time, she realised that something is screwed enough in my mind and soul and I really enjoyed the beach and ocean.

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