I sat in a room tonight, listening to another passer-by
pass by. She told me a story of a stormy old road that I know. She told the story of not staying but going; she carried nothing with her, so she could always go. She talked of London, 2 years from now. She talked of Denver along the way. Her words drifting off the lip, I watched myself unfold. Leave it all and start over. This mirror reflection in a sandy orange shirt spoke my journey back at me.
What do you say to the concave mirror speaking, this serendipitous event colliding into my obscure reality?
I sat there and listened. Traveled her lines into my own story. That couch picked up on the side of the road, the dishes passed along from a friend. Stay simple and own nothing ‘cause you’ll be leaving it all in the end. She spoke of what to carry while unfurling baggage we picked along the way. Without a doubt she was not gonna stay.
It’s a casual conversation, neither of us met before. My road and hers happened to come across the same door. I didn’t know when I opened it, what this time had in store.
Now I sit here thinking, trying to wrap up this time. Two passers-by passed by and I said goodbye to that silly old road that I know. The one where I’m always leaving; always got someplace else to go. Nothing to carry, no one to know. Just me on my journey, so I’m always ready to go!
Labels: moving, photos, working it out