Traveling with the wind

In the car, with the wind coming in through the window and the city called ¨home¨ behind my thoughts, I went ahead hand in hand with incertitude and beautiful loneliness. I saw wonders of the world dressed with water and roars; I roared next to them to feel the power of being big. I slept under the stars next to the grass and heart that beat with the same impatient blood. I looked at the fire with certitude and wrote my stories in the fallen leaves.

I drove away from the known and entered Canadian cities and neighborhoods decorated by the French language and colored teas. Canada surprised me with tranquility and rivers that talked about different experiences in new lands. I walked between the streets of Ottawa, which sounded of the happiness of innocents and the passion of naive minds. I ran between the green roofs and left my anxiety of imperfect plans in the rocks of the northern river. I rose to the medley between Europe and America and got to Montreal, who danced with me until the paintings from the galleries became reality. I moved my feet according to the rhythm the city taught me, and the hips followed the melody the night whispered between starts and Irish buildings. The dance ended with a new song stuck in my mind.

The car led me to corners in my memory and lunches among the trees decorated by new friendships. I dreamed with the city that never sleeps and when I woke up I was in it. I discovered the fascination for the rush of walking between shop and nook and I understood the wonder of a park inside the greatest buildings of New York. I guessed the riddle that the streets proposed and I was capable of figuring out how to walk among people and live in their stories. The Brooklyn Bridge was my companion when the sun was on the rooftops of the buildings, and the Statue of Liberty hid from my eyes when I asked to admire its historical beauty. I lived stories between seas of diversity and I lamented when the adventure declared its end.