“The birds were flying around him this morning, as he walked by the river to the coffee shop. Gliding white birds and the subtle flow and drizzle of the water. One of his favorite memories from the mountains was a small river falling off a steep cliff, and the water drops dancing downwards in free fall, with random movements and creating a whole little contained spectacle. It was a beautiful little spectacle of nature, and mostly unseen and not related to anything. Just water falling, drops spreading, mostly reaching the ground deep below, and some evaporating into thin air. “
“After some hours of rain the twilight fell, and the deep blue blended with the little beautiful street lights outside. He thought of the last few weeks, and then felt how his heart was beating. There was a little voice, and a little smile, that was always with him now. Even when he was not seeing it or thinking about it, it was always there, in him.”
He always loved to walk. The body slowly moving, the limbs performing their natural functions, and the breathing. The air softly through the mouth, the throat, filling the chest. The clarity of the senses. How we walk through our lives, a long stream of changing scenery and endless repetition.
As a little boy, to school, on travels, all the memories and experiences connected to and absorbed in the state of walking. Faint travel memories from Greek temples by the Mediterranean Sea, to dark and busy streets in the midst of China, the flowing green landscapes of lush Vietnam, the classical buildings of downtown Washington, gushing geysers on Iceland, tiny streets of childhood summer vacations filled with sunshine and soft scents of flowers in green, violet, yellow. All recorded and remembered while in motion, moving and carefully placing one foot in front of the other. Living life and moving through time.
Longer excerpt here!
“And that night he kept dreaming about new travels once again, about tropical islands, swinging palms and blue pristine skies, or bustling town squares in ancient old cities, with a little sidewalk table and a coffee, or sometimes blended into a glass of wine, soaking in the hot sun and the historical buildings, and feeling the thick warm atmosphere of a lively town with a big heart and passionate outbursts of joy, enthusiasm, and intense human bonds blistering with intensity and love.”
“One morning a new friend appeared at the sidewalk table, unassumingly sitting beside Maurice and carefully reading the menu before softly doing the orders with a flowing smile at the end. Her dark hair was shimmering in the sun, and a careful but withdrawn sparkle was hiding in her eyes. He immediately felt a bit dizzy.”