I still can’t believe it’s been a week already. Seven days that I’m back in France. Time flies.
I will try to keep on sharing my thoughts and re-adaptation to Europe as much as I can, as long as possible. And you surely know it already: I’m not here to write what is nice to hear, but to write the words coming from my heart, raw, with no artifice, but probably a bit rough to read sometimes.
Even though I’m feeling blessed to be able to stay at my parents’ to rest, to work on my footage, website, and many coming things, to feel surrounded and loved, something’s missing. Don’t get me wrong, I’m aware that I don’t have the right to complain, that I could realise something many only dream about…but once you live this…I promise you…I have the feeling that I will never be able to live like before. Every single hour, I remember a tiny detail about somewhere in Africa or in the Middle East. Like on this picture when I was around the town of Sur, in Oman, looking for some water to fill up my 20L jerrycan. I managed to squeeze my camera between two rocks, to put the timer on, and to do my life.
Today, seven days later only, I miss the road like if being a nomad has always been part of my DNA, like if I want my life to be an endless music I just need to keep on moving on it…a music with such a strong rhythm wrapped into poetical notes…
Seven days my mind is a roller-coaster, my heart a vagabond, and my eyes searching for a new star. I don’t want to settle down. I don’t want to obey. I don’t want to park my soul into a sanitized box. I want to keep being wild and free, whatever time and energy it takes me.
I miss Africa, deeply, I miss the Middle East, immensely. And I miss Africans, and I miss Arabs. I miss driving my Rafiki off-road, I miss the colour of the sand on its body and the sticky mud on its tires. I miss the dusty wind in my hair, the burning sun on my skin. I miss unity, generosity, and the humanity all along this adventure.
I miss this solo expedition from the BOTTOM OF MY HEART.
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