I was never gonna make it.
But you said,’ we have to do it now.’
For so many days my tires were flat…for so many days the windshield was murmuring death…
And now I am sprinting…I am doing the impossible.
Sleeping on the floor I saw your brown spot on your shoulders… tilted like a broken soldier.
This town we are leaving has too many rainy nights of starvation…and I know being together through the different suns, through the different smiles and through the different horizons,
we will accept the silence in us…
I know you will give me a kiss with the sounds of irresistible herons when we will drink our last beer of the day being by the balcony of our desert motel.
Places have a living essence…it breathes through the fallen faces,
I know once we keep changing our roads and our radio stations we will understand why it’s more important to learn the distances.
Let’s speed along the highways and let’s forget that we had a home where we had everything except association.

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Photograph: Lurie Belegurschi.