Yesterday, on the 23rd of January, I turned 35. I’m not really into data and numbers but I will always remember this age. At 35, I realised my dream: to go back to Africa and to overland its lands with my own car Rafiki.
At 35, I decided to take the risk to live far away from home, in a car, to refuse a sedentary lifestyle, to be constantly on the move, to get attached to people and to learn goodbyes, to make my gut my compass and the road my freedom, to be alone and to accept to feel lonely, to accept to be bored and to forget time, to feel alive with lions and to feel empty when my limits are gone, to play with the inner child and to become, to embrace pain, rage, sadness, and fear, and to face emotions, to stay raw, to stay calm, to hate and to love, to get lost, to get full, to feel true, to be me.
At 35, I chose to be me. I chose to say no, I chose to admit my mistakes, to change my plans, to amend my dreams, to go away and to stay nomad, to meet somebody and to keep traveling, to fight for freedom because freedom is so rare, to fight for truth because truth is everything.
At 35, I feel even more lost and it’s the best of news.
Thank you for the tones of birthday wishes. You rock.
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