The bourbon slides down, bites, pushes me. I push back.

I stare at the map, stepping ahead, far beyond the New Orleans where I will be in just over two weeks. I dream of the future, chasing the dreams of the past. The dreams that are the constant. Dreams of a boy who had forsaken them, dreams of a man who realized that they never left.

I stare at the map, looking at what I need to do, where I need to go.

The countries, the cities, lavishly draped in history, dripping with blood, poetry, and life.

I don’t believe that I will ever be able to find my Mother or Father. Gods, how I’ve tried. My existence is a piece of paper with nothing but lies; my blood begins and ends with me, so…

I go to the lands of my heritage. Norway, Ireland, Germany, and ummm – shit. Dutch. Fuck. Wherever the Dutch are from. I always forget that.

Anyway, heading everywhere in Europe and the U.K. Wandering, definitely hitting Prague & the Czech Republic, Russia, Poland, France, Spain, Italy, Maybe Romania & Bulgaria, definitely Greece – I gots me some livin’ to do.

Still now simply a dream – but that doesn’t seem to stop me anymore. My will is much stronger, time is much shorter.

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