generaljanuary

(untitled as of yet because I'll probably add to it and edit it some more)

My destination is made of clouds
Mind at ease, lost somewhere between
What is comforting and what is unknown
Temporary feeling of freedom in a temporary home
Layers of blue skies upon layers of loose smiles

You don’t know me when I travel, baby
My soul changes with the scenery
The road swallows my sorrow
I tossed my baggage out the window
I’ve got an old, warm jacket
And memories of you folded in my breast pocket
Between my heart and a crushed pack of cigarettes

I wrote these lines in a moment of peace and almost-slumber, in a bus speeding towards the metropole.
My relationship with transportation is complex. I'm afraid on a canoe in a shallow river but never on a huge boat at sea.I am scared of cars, but not of planes. The metro makes my head spin, but only when I'm waiting to get in. I sometimes get short-breathed on city buses when drivers are going very fast or braking and turning sharply. But the getting there. Oh! The getting there!
A few years ago I was playing the trumpet in a marching band, we often had to travel small or big distances for concerts and parades. I was developing a very unhealty pattern of stress and feeling of failure in those fragile days, and just being on the bus, waiting to get to my destination was a refuge. Expectations and the reality of life outside of the bus melted away into the never-ending sky and scenery passing by through my square little window.
Alone on a quiet bus, in between cities, is like being suspended in time, pressing the pause button. You are no where, no one. Nothing can reach you so you have no choice but to reach intside yourself.

More on My Montreal Trip in my next post ;)