I was in the winter of my life- and the men I met along the road were my
only summer. At night I fell sleep with visions of myself dancing and
laughing and crying with them. Three years down the line of being on an
endless world tour and my memories of them were the only things that
sustained me, and my only real happy times. I was a singer, not very
popular one, I once has dreams of becoming a beautiful poet- but upon an
unfortunate series of events saw those dreams dashed and divided like
million stars in the night sky that I wished on over and over again-
sparkling and broken. But I didn’t really mind it because I knew that it
takes getting everything you ever wanted and then losing it to know what
true freedom is.
When the people I used to know found out what I had been doing, how I had
been living- they asked me why. But there’s no use in talking to people who
have a home, they have no idea what its like to seek safety in other
people, for home to be wherever you lied you head.
I was always an unusual girl, my mother told me that I had a chameleon
soul. No moral compass pointing me due north, no fixed personality. Just an
inner indecisiveness that was as wide as wavering as the ocean. And if I
said that I didn’t plan for it to turn out this way I’d be lying- because I
was born to be the other woman. I belonged to no one- who belonged to
everyone, who had nothing- who wanted everything with a fire for every
experience and an obsession for freedom that terrified me to the point that
I couldn’t even talk about- and pushed me to a nomadic point of madness
that both dazzled and dizzied me.
Every night I used to pray that I’d find my people- and finally I did- on
the open road. We have nothing to lose, nothing to gain, nothing we desired
anymore- except to make our lives into a work of art.
Live fast. Die young. Be wild. Have fun.
I believe in the country America used to be. I believe in the person I want
to become, I believe in the freedom of the open road. And my motto is the
same as ever:
“I believe in the kindness of strangers. And when I’m at war with myself, I
Ride. I Just Ride.”
Leneșă, mi-am alungat ultima urmă de vis și am reușit să deschid ochii…
E încă întuneric, mereu sunt prea matinală…..
Întind mâna spre perna ta.Tu dormi adânc visând la cine știe ce…Zâmbesc.Știu că mi-ai simțit ochii deschizându-se.Doar simțim la fel…..
Încerc să mă apropii încet …vii spre mine ….te-am prins!
Inconștient mă iei în brațe și-mi zici „mai stai lângă mine”….
E rece și e încă devreme.Am timp să te chinui, să–ți fac dimineața mai frumoasă…
Știu că vei adormi apoi , în timp ce eu voi fi plecat.Și știu că vei aștepta să mă întorc să te trezesc la fel……
Îți sărut părul răvășit…are parfum de vis…Ador să mă joc dimineața în părul tău…
Ușor îți șoptesc la ureche secretul care mereu te trezește…..
Mă prinzi în brațe .Captivă , nu mai lupt cu dorința ta matinală…mă abandonez ție.
Ador diminețile leneșe.Cu zâmbete ascunse în pernă și secrete cântate în șoaptă.