TRAVELING INSIDE THE SOUL

Looking for clean and confortable room

Yes, again on the way! And although I must work everyday here, I'll always have time for walking, doing friends, to stay near of life. Wow! how I like to jump into a train or a bus middle of a city, just with the card of the hotel where I stay, my passport, and I go to such avenues populated by children, merchants, prostitutes, anonymous faces, sick under stress for future.

Nothing matter if I don't know where I am (during the day!), I take a boat, a motorcycle and go to my apoinment with the city, its people, streets wich are in my dreams and I ignore where or how these are called, until I arrive in some place and after touring such streets I say: but I was here before! It could be in a previous life or inside of the belly of my mother or my father's sperm, but I was here!

Time for lunch. Such a delicius menu!

And then, when I walk through those streets, instinctively turn towards an alleyway and I find some restaurant, and I do not need to ask for the menu to know that inside there food and trinks are the best. Or when I take a bus and in my soul or blood I know that I am going to a place where I lived or loved, or I was stoned or I killed someone. During my trip there are certain places that cause me pleasure, fear, and as the murderer always turns back to the scene of the crime, I am here for the knife!

Lost in the city. Bangkok is too much for me.

Playing "cavalinio" in front of the hotel with a friend.

And then I drink, shout out, I embraces to somebody who gives me his beer or shuts a picture for me. Or look at the girls, lost like me, looking inside us the city we want to leave, the city despised and hated and we look for another one during the trip. But there is no other city. Our small town inside us, according Kavafis' words, has given us this trip. It has given us this day, these friends, love, this town has given me life and died I do not try to go back to it, but to reconcile with it. Town without name or place on maps of here ,and although I can not forget it, nor live there -as when I despised it, I am traveling in a searching for it, to love it, to kiss it as a foreigner who arrives after a long journey (time is relative word: a day can be an eternity) and embraces his elderly mother, toothless, deaf, or love his girlfriend, his wife, with passion, with fury, with strong hugs and promises not to depart again.

But a day after he leaves. And that is our sweet damn: to love, to leave, to come back!