The huge skies of the world hung over us like a fluffy blanket.
This whole business with places and homes are crazy. Looking out the window of the train carriage I am travelling in gives me the view of huge plains, green trees, brick houses, stones, fields, soil, grass … I look up and the skies are grand with little sheepish clouds floating in the open. I could be describing any place on earth with little variations of colours and quantities.
And I wonder where I want to live in the world.
My favourite place on earth so far is south Italy, the Amalfi Coast. I love the blue skies melting into the depth of the green waters, the hills of rock. I love the weather, the summer breeze, the seasonlessness of the times passing. A timeless place with ancient histories all around it. Life is so slow that often people move there so not to experience the passing of time.
When it comes to settling down, though, I suddenly become practical. I like travelling so London would be the best place to keep on returning to. I am attracted to the comfort and spaciousness of the great American plain of Texas, not mentioning the sunny and dry weather that I appreciate. And there is the Big Apple, the melting pot, with its attractive and never ending business; a constant temptation to experience life to the fullest. I am not sure I am into that much excitement any more.
All in all, I am attracted to the idea of settling in and for the USA. I love the vast open spaces, the cultureless, ‘everything goes’ attitude, this God’s cradle. In Europe we are cramped and inhibited. It feels as if people had more personal room in the States in every sense of the word. Even confined places seem spacious taking the size of the population; ponds are lakes and creeks are rivers in comparison.
The most complain about it, especially now with high petrol prices, I actually like the immense distances, I like the traveling and the cruising through vast, open places for hours, days, endlessly. Whenever I get the chance I pack up. I somehow recollect myself while travelling. After my routine days of middle class hell I get the opportunity again to watch my breath while smothered by the changing colours of the day.
Still a home would be nice to return to after each of my travels. A place that shelters my little treasures I collected on the road. Some place cozy and welcoming.
When my body gets old and little crooked I want to live at a place that cradles me like my grandma’s smile. A place of warm salty air by the aqua green seas and surrounded by ancient bets and curves of mother earth. Little villages, vespas, smiles and the smell of freshly brewed coffee. In the evenings as we eat our crispy pizzas and freshly made tossed salads sipping sparkling water I want to gratefully lift my eyes up to the burning skies of the summer dawn and smell eternity.
I close my eyes and I am ‘home’ wherever I am.