Rainy day in the not-so-nice Nice.
We’re all knocking on salvation’s door, hoping there will be a warm couch to crash on or even a mouldy corner that could accommodate us, with our knees fully bent and our hearts as tiny as dewdrops.
But sometimes, you just end up sleeping in airport lounges, with your bones aching and your heart still as tiny as a dewdrop, beating erraticaly as the rolling stone you’ve turned into keeps rolling past mountains, cliffs, oceans and seas.
And that’s okay too. Salvation does not happen in an almost sleepless night spent in an airport lounge, trying to avoid the security because you actually have no upcoming flight that could explain your lying there as a homeless looking for shelter.
Salvation happens little by little, during those 30 miles you walked the previous day and got you closer to your real self.
Step by step. Mile by mile. Country by country. Self by self.