The Manifest

Let me paraphrase Hamlet and say that my universe, out of all its joints just went crazy. But probably not even in the bad sense – rather just that there is something enormous in front of me and I crawl out of the Platonic cave, blinking into the blinding light, and although I see nothing, I know it will be huge.

My year’s blundering over the rocks dropped me into the rapids after all, and took away all certainty that I carried on my back and spitted me out somewhat lightened (but alive!) on the other side of my Rubicon, shivering in cold, but determined to set out to meet new horizons.

Without any more signs or metaphors, what it means in my case is that behind me, on a wall which will call me master for just a few more days, there hangs a giant map with a ton of notes, the shelves are empty already, except for one, cambered under the weight of books about distant lands and there’s a sleeping bag on my lonely bed which misses the blankets already.

Miss Catherine was the last thing that kept my poor restless soul oscillating between two opposite poles of my being, but she’s gone now and that wild part of me have catapulted my head back on the road with a chattering sound of a bow whose string had been drawn back for years. That’s why I postponed my studies, cancelled my phone plan, checked out from social and health insurance system and all the clothes that I won’t need or I didn’t wear in last two months, I’ve donated to goodwill. I’ve deleted myself from the system!

So I’ve bought myself a new bike (a used one, of course) and I’m going to search for romance and love and fore-mostly for myself on the Silk Road. It’s not really a trip to China, it’s not at all about seeing the sights, it is a philosophical journey to the core of my soul, a hermit’s holy pilgrimage, at the end of which there will be a man I’ve always wanted to be. And despite everything that has preceded it, it’s a journey I’ve always dreamed of.

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