Early July.

There is this thing called home, some of us don't attach to it, other have home's in multitudes. I headed to my first and foremost home and gave my parents and friends the love that they give me. 
'Everything goes back to what it used to be' when I am around. I'm glad for that, I'm like corner brick. Holding lives together with both hands in skies and on earth. I love how affectionate people are, I feel the love I need and carry on with life. 

My Kefas, or the daubter, is my cornerstone for my spiritual life. And I take him back to where we both belong, I take him home. Banjo music, sunsets and my favourite loft. How good is life. Knots are secretly being tied, but he doesn't know it, but he'll be safe when he falls from a cliff. 

We're back in the tea-country, but not for long. We wander out of the house and into an adventure like no other. Trucks, boots and cars and our milestones and helpers. And we'll casually floating away to several countries. France is a mess and Donquerqe makes us miserable, but the south is pretty and we'll soon celebrate feast with our torinian friends. Life is good, is it not. We arrive at our final destination, so many kilometres and it all went so well. We dine with horses and speak every possible language. Merci, my dear, life is good. It's late and we set up some sand barries, but I already see where the sea takes us. 

Mistakes mistakes, make sure no one is around in drunken clouds of happy days and shoes are lost in the gaze. We climb, and the rocks and drops are wonderfully terrifying. My feet are hurting but life is still good. Every day. Rocks and cliffs are the peaks of this place, beautiful sunsets and bivvy places. 2000 meter over the sea or just by the lake of garda. We gaze at the amazing views and will never look back.

Clothes get exchanged for skin and sunscreen. I hope that nothing is taken for granted, we might save eachother and the world. We give eachother rushes like never before and it's all good, just like he said. Hitchhiking a bit more to prove our points and soon we're dining a plenty-course meal with families. The little one loves me, will I see her again? 

Hiking kills my lungs, but now I have company. Dolomites have the most beautiful view I have ever seen and we're watching thunder hitting the mountains. Singing songs about several countries, especially about our dear italy, storms are mental, so are we. Arco, a water melon and great rocks. That's how we live. 

I will never forget this place and this journey. Hitchhiking is not dead, neither are feelings. 

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