The difficulty of walking

Lit a cigarette again on a quiet lonely morning on my way home. The town was in a sound sleep, except for the taxis driving the drunk back home with 100 km/h on the empty main road. The Pall Mall gave me a foretaste of what is going to come next in my life, though it tasted good, which only means I was sad and conscious enough, relaxed enough to breathe properly and forgiving enough to smile at my hometown. My hometown is only wonderful when everyone is in a sound sleep, so I can have its goddamn attention all to myself. If you know what it is like feeling sober without having drunk before, without having done drugs before or without having had anger outbreaks before – and how simply the power of a little town’s tranquility, the smell of the morning sun and the taste of a Pall Mall, you’ll  most likely know what I am talking about. The jaded subconscious climbs up on the shoulders of your tiredness for a moment, though without bad intention – truce and peace between good and evil evoke a string of wakefulness and all you do is walk slowly with confidence and determination.  The way it should be. Moments like these often last up to 3 minutes only. Cherish and breathe those moments when you encounter them please. Think about lonely riders like Kerouac, Böll and Thoreau and how they had made sweet love to those moments; those moments which are only granted when the balance of the mind is right, when the heart beat is the same as Depeche Mode’s intro in the song “Somebody”. If they say free will and freedom are non-existent, you’ll know that they only lack of imagination, the never-ending road in our head surprises us each day, whenever we decide to walk this road. Some people are just too lazy to walk, too apathetic to explore or too scared to risk their existing stability; scared of losing track and scared of being alone. I just can’t deal with them. They stop in the middle of the road, build a house at the side and invite me in. The house feels warm, but it’s indescribably foreign and wrong in so many ways like the large full stop they use as a door mat indicating that this is where it all ends. But everything is ok, because they are smiling, because they are holding hands and because they are kissing. It’s only me who decides to continue exploring the road. I’m in search of a machine gun.

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