Locking the metal gate behind me, I pull my big hood over my head, hiding from the cold and the light and the world. It’s a very cold morning in Bucharest and an important day for me. As I’m walking to work, chanting a mantra and looking for an Instagram photo opportunity, there’s this thought process going on in parallel. An analysis about my own role in my own life. Where am I heading?
Having left behind a few homes, some hotels, travel companions or mere stops on the road, I can feel the time for another change is approaching. When a place can no longer hold you, it spits you out. It’s like a birth. Painful, too, yes. You have outgrown the place. And, as we know, everything is temporary. So that’s no tragedy. It’s actually exciting. (I’m glad my house in Harmony Street can still contain me, though it rarely sees me anymore.)
“Are you happy there?” my 84 year old friend asks me about the place I seem to have outgrown.
“No…” I answer in all honesty.
“Well, then you have to leave. It’s as simple as that.” he replies and I feel that life is as simple as that, indeed.
“You’ve outgrown your old clothes, it’s time to move on”, Brendan Perry’s deep voice sounds in my head as my big hood comes off and my curls can breathe again the crisp morning air before walking through another gate – a magical one this time, that makes me invisible for mean people, who cannot see or hear me and therefore do not answer when I say good morning and cannot look me in the eye. It’s a magical power I possess.
I’m giggling behind my fluffy scarf and the hot tears in the corner of my eyes are painting soft grey traces in the shallow creases of my wrinkles, like playful fish tails swimming in the salty water.