For the nomads

Nomad is more than what they share with you in fairy tales
It is not just about having a backpack on your shoulders and the great unknown awaiting you, or the ease with which one dreams

Nomad is not a rebellion against the world, it is a rebellion against oneself
Like shattering doubts around the truths of the world just for the pleasure felt when thinking truly, with the heart

Nomad is not only tireless feet and a quest in the unknown, it is a restless mind and the courage to keep it curious
Unable to quit, no matter what

Like a never ending walk towards all that’s possible, it is a life journey to the core of the self
And so it is in spite of the pain felt at times, in spite of uncertainty, in spite of all those bullshits screamed from the mouth of a world to which you don’t want to belong to

Nomad has more meaning than the thousands of languages you might come to speak, or the variety of people you will get to love, or the many times you will think you are lost
It is wilder than all those moments in which, alone at the edge of the world, you have felt free

Nomad is an adventure to change reality, the one one cannot find respect for
Like foreign roots and dead branches, there to be snapped one by one and step after step

It is a point of no return, one way only, always to the front, and without ever looking back
And it’s not just the wish to keep flying higher
Nomad is the one who can’t live without doing it, over and over again

Nomad is to love for a night that extends to the infinite, and the bitter smile of a goodbye when one realizes that even infinite has its limits
It is a curse, and a bless to the soul
Because it is not a choice
Nomad is a destiny

Nomad is memories of a childhood that felt like a cage, of rules that were choking you in your sleep, an inner war to a common sense that was making the blood in your veins run dry

It is having monotony as the worse enemy and loneliness as the only crime companion, a familiarity that gets to be a stranger the more you approach it

Nomad are the scars on your being one cannot miss out,
The ones that broke you, marked you and opened you up
The same that made you dance on notes only you could hear
And the ones that, eventually, inspired you to keep going, even as the world was spinning on and on, always in the same direction

Nomad is the chains you got rid of little by little,
Hurting your skin till you felt alive
It is the fight on your independence, you and your ideals against all those sheep blindly walking the streets
Because it is in this society that the more you grow older, the more you feel out of place, and the more you understand what freedom really means
With the hostile hope that, one day, it might all be over
Just, that day will never come, and deep inside you already know it

Nomad is a need, a desire that corrodes your insides just to make your heart explode, it is the boredom of the normal things and the madness in the ordinary longings

And so it is, you are condemned to belong to one thing only, and that is movement, a never ending search of your self in every life’s corner, in every foreign conversation, during all those sunrises when they are born to make space for the world, and only those that share your folly will manage to come closer

And one runs, and one falls, and one gets back on his feet, and joy is born from this, from change only, from an undaunted evolution, from a stubborn analysis of all the whys of a lifetime and its dreams, even when we suffer in it, even when we miss home, maybe because home doesn’t exist, maybe because home will never really exist

Because one doesn’t become a nomad, one was born nomad, one grew up nomad and one will die nomad
Till the last of the cells, streaming against that damned system that constantly tries to make you believe otherwise

And so, to hell with security, and to hell with stability, and to hell with the minutes so like the hours so like the days so like the months and the years that chase one another so ferociously and the only certainty that remains alive is that of a lethal inertia
Because the fear that ordinary people feel by the only thought of breathing into freedom, is the same fear that the nomad feels when someone is trying to rape it out of his being

Thanks to Christina for these free spirited thoughts.