A decade of routines. Twice a day I marched along to the same beat as strangers, up and down the subway stairs, spooning with neighbours on the streetcars...neighbours that I have never actually had a conversation with...and all of this within a five kilometer radius inside the big city. Somehow over the last years, I managed to build a cocoon around myself. I was choking, surrounded by nothing more than concrete buildings. A city I once considered one of the most beautiful in the world, now seemed like nothing more than giant walls of poured concrete blocking me from the world. Maybe Shakespeare had it right when he wrote:
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more; it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
(Macbeth)
As of tomorrow, I am expanding my stage. This player is going to strut outside of the big city. For the next three months, my stage will include Africa for adventure, Egypt for inspiration and India for the soul. Farewell to the concrete walls of the city, hello adventure!
Wish me luck!
