Walking alone | Guy Verville
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Walking alone

Modifié le : 2019/07/14

I’m walking alone again. Portugal suddenly seems quite complicated, reality catches up with me and nods its head to see me finally accept the conclusions of all those little voices that have been whispering their words of gossip to me for a year. I walk alone because that’s the way it’s always been. As a teenager, I was in the clouds, as an adult, I wanted to stay there. And the resulting disorder is a chorus hummed to boredom, persistent, obstinate. These are not torments, these are not complaints. Of course, there are these painful waves that break when I look at people who seem, after all these years, to have found a lull between them. Happiness exists; I love being stuck to a skin, a soul. But I have to go back to sea, because those who welcome me love me only moderately.

Why is this so complicated for me? Why does my walking seem more certain when I am alone? Can it be that I am stupidly difficult to live with, that I cannot be satisfied with little when I am a little nothing myself?

It may seem curious to hear me say that I am not sad, only unhappy. I have always loved opposites, the tightrope of existence, Narcissus blinded and disembodied.

I envy these lighthouse keepers from another era. I think I would have felt happy there in one of those towers swept away by the constant roar of the ocean. Maybe I would have gone mad there and found the genius I lack. The courage to be what I am too.

I will never say no to love. A sailor sometimes docked at my dock and I tasted every hour of his presence. He will come back, I’m sure. I only doubt that he will accept this lighthouse isolated from existence for long. It takes two crazy people to build shelter for themselves. I’m still looking for my madman. Maybe I’m desperately chasing my tail like a dog.

In the meantime, I have to pay my bills and repay my fantasy adventures. I walk slowly, with an uncertain step, in a blind way. Walking is healthy, after all. Goodbye, until tomorrow, until another day. The dance continues.

Besides, that won’t stop me from continuing to learn Portuguese. I’m here, I’m staying here.

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