I'm empty and aching and I don't know why.
I just need to go, I need to go again. I miss those handful of days last year I traveled the Greyhound and Amtrak, going nowhere in particular.
I need to go, I need to go and get away and be free.
I am falling apart, Brexit and racists, phantasmal chains and clenched fists. Towers of bureaucracy, fear and anxiety, and all I want is that moment...
When I sat up on the overpass of I-80, watching America drive under my dangling Adidas, kicking heels against the concrete.
When I clung for dear life to a crumbling cliff face as the wind whipped about, watching a freight train crawl up the canyon.
Trying to stay warm under a newspaper in the last Greyhound station in Montana.
I love the city, oh how I love the people and the food and the music and the energy, but God, I need to go.
Times like this I think I will probably end up back in Canada sooner rather than later. America was always my dream, it probably always will be, despite its depressingly racist, capitalist, imperialist reality. It has more spaces in between than Europe. Spaces with poverty and hopelessness and loneliness. But spaces with peace too.
I need to go. I need to be free again.