Definition of the unlikely

The sole purpose of this article is to help me define the peculiar position I have found myself in. It turned out to be way too complicated to think this through. Therefore, the only way to make this mess a constructive logical chain of actions and reactions is to write my way through it as always.

The problem in itself is quite simple and for most people not so unlikely to happen. On the contrary, it is one of the most natural things (what is or is not natural is very subjective but for this particular case I chose to call natural what is most common among people in general).

I have become very deeply attached to a place.

To something exact and concrete... not an abstract idea, surrealistic world or a twisted lifestyle. Until recently, taking into account my perspective on life, I considered such an event very unlikely to happen.
Not that I am such an experienced traveller... when I think about it, it has been solely four years since I left for the first time and I have seen only very little. The thing is I was never truly bothered by the idea of departure. It never occurred to me I should be.

Since I let my decision to leave to US slip into pool of public consciousness, people approached me saying ‘I don’t understand how can you do it’, ‘I admire you for doing so’ or ‘Aren’t you afraid?’. While, what I really did not understand was their reaction. I am aware that till then I have spent my entire life living in the green house in this valley and that maybe setting out alone on the other side of the world, leaving my whole family and friends behind, to go and live with strangers should spur also other emotions beside the crazy excitement... the kind of fear one has to indulge in or the air of naturalness spreading through my body.

Yet I did not perceive any of my departures in any way complicated or difficult. Of course I was nostalgic and sad; however I always took that as normal part of life, too obviously normal to get under my skin. Maybe I was already swallowed by the vision of where I was going, although I would rather incline to the concept of relativity in regard to our environment. The place in itself was never a pivot of my fascination with travelling. The truth is it was the actual act of throwing yourself alone into the unknown and learning to swim, overcoming yourself, crossing the line of your (so far known) abilities... discovering... experimenting... jumping into a dark well which bottom you cannot see... struggling... purposefully hunting for challenges... being in hell, heaven and purgatory at the same time... learning to live in world you know nothing about. This kind of insanity posses an alluring irresistible charm...
Thus the place was a setting which importance was defined by the scene that took place in it. At the moment of goodbye I would cry for all that was to be left behind but the second I set my food on the road, slammed the door on a car or boarded the plane, I never looked back. It is somewhat difficult to say this to anyone because to get the idea across without choosing the right words makes me sound a little coldblooded. It’s just... I do not like looking back. What is done is done, the good and the bad. It is like the end of a chapter. The novel has to continue... Looking back causes trouble.

Nevertheless, I sit on my bed and I cannot concentrate on life. I feel like a page torn out of a book. As if I was tossed into a novel of an author who likes to infuse two or more storylines and jumps from one to another and you are forced to concentrate on something entirely different in the most inconvenient moments.

When I was leaving this time I did not feel like crying yet twice I had to restrain myself from looking back. For quite a few weeks the fast approaching thought of leaving dragged me into the state of unease... the last look on the city from the plane just torn me apart.

So unlike me! (And I claim to know myself very well... ehm... maybe far too well)

However it may be this emotional anomaly was the trigger for my brain to sort out the situation. Therefore, after some thought I limited ‘Definition of the unlikely’ to three moments that seem to be the essence of an essence of the primary causes of all this mess:

1. The walk

Wonderland

2. The dance

Insanity

3. The sunrise

Happiness


All I want to say is... everything that fascinates me about travelling can be (after all) found in a single place... which is an interesting insight and I myself am startled at the thought. It makes me wonder even more...

One mystery leads to another....