Walking in the Air

Walking in the Air

I love goodbyes.

Can’t really pinpoint it, but it must be this glorious feeling of transitioning from one realm to the next, without really being sure what lies ahead, that excites me.

The tear of the one I part with breaks my heart with a bitter sweetness that tenderly tickles my own eyes and nose. A joint of fear to loose everything that the past built and refined, to exit all safety of staying, hits my chest like free-falling on a rollercoaster. Or an airplane.

Then the engine kicks in like an earthquake and makes me sink deep, deeper into my seat, like a loving hand on my sternum. I am a daredevil, so I listen to punk while taking off. Always the same song.

Finally, the crescendo, feels like Walking in the Air. And off I am, gone without turning back, for a second free of worries, to some time that has yet to define me.

I do love goodbyes.

I am always the one leaving.

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