Lone, erratic Pilgrims
Nobody is ever fully prepared to say farewell.
You may rehearse it until it sounds just about right. And yet, when the time comes, a knot begins to tighten in your throat, birthed in your stomach. This is the crucial moment in which doubt introduces a feasible silence, a trembling of intentions. You know those first steps away demand to be yours to take, and so be it. The journey that is endured is a solitary affair, starred by many arrivals and departures. The bindle of memories is mutually carried - it grows as you proceed.
When tracing routes in unknown territories, one has the tendency to search for comfort in familiar patterns. Yet this only digs a gradually deeper trench, hopelessly harder to overcome. Journeys, as such, are meant to be reconfigured. One encounters dead ends: mountains that are far too steep, lakes, seas and rivers too turbulent to be crossed, yet there is hope to emerge wholly from getting lost.