Many years, for some I am old, for others young.

In other words, living…on a road, it somehow sounds better.

With backpack full of cloths, occasionally food, sleeping bag and not long ago with laptop, electric shaver, several maps…

Many memories and dreams are hided in the backpack. Although the backpack is capacious, something falls out on a road from time to time. Unfortunately. Let these collected fragments find their place right here. When the sun goes down, the memories start to rise…it is the worst part of the day. In the evening, I am trying to take up something, from darning socks to tidying my backpack…but few moments later there is nothing to do, the only things which stay are the radio playing softly and loud minds. Sometimes it is very hard and difficult. Sometimes I curl into a ball, sometimes tears began to flow from my eyes. It is better not to have somebody close to me in these days…But when a dawn begins, there is again a path to follow…

 

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