Too much, perhaps.
I begin this with no idea what will follow. I begin this with any words i have known escaping me. I begin this with nothing but a need. A need to write at least something.
It may end the same way.
15 days. On my bike I ride through the streets slower and slower, taking it all in. At this point I have already left inside, these travels are only waking dreams to be remembered. The shuttered doors, the colors of the homes, the beautiful trees and plants that make this place so beautiful, so surreal in the knowledge of what lies behind them – but no one can ever really know that. As friendly as New Orleans is, the secrets it carries are where the magick is based, and no one will ever know everything about this place.
A film of a life built in dreams. It is beginning to exist, I am beginning to believe it will – almost.
15 days. Still need a van. It will come. I try not to get nervous, I trust. I hide my terror behind what I know will happen because it needs to. I trust i trust I trust. I should know better than to not at this point.
Gulfport and peace, drawing down the moon under an oak while waiting for dinner. I took off my boots, grounded. I needed that.
The road calls again. A new life, another life.
How many have I had? I’ve bested the strongest of cats. Nine is nothing. Watch me fly again.
It ends the same way.