THE TASTE OF SAND

Even though I’m sitting in front of my breakfast, my tea getting cold, my feet all so curled up, freezing, on the tiled floor, that’s the taste of sand coming back before anything else when I launch the Spanish app on my phone.
Les Aventures d'une Baroudeuse en carton // Tales of a Novice Adventurer.
Reflexion
Even though I’m sitting in front of my breakfast, my tea getting cold, my feet all so curled up, freezing, on the tiled floor, that’s the taste of sand coming back before anything else when I launch the Spanish app on my phone.
I’m often waiting for that green light, that next train departing for another mechanical lift up to the top that’s going to kick my shoes away, ignite myself like the first time, with that dizzy taste of vertigo in my mouth.
Butterflies are flapping in my stomach while riding up. Am I going too high?
My feet are not touching the ground anymore by the time you take my hand in the streets of Kyoto.
There’s a place that I, unfortunately, carry up with me no matter where I go: my cabin of sadness.
Until a few years ago it didn’t have a name, neither a shape. However, it had been there just as far as I can remember. It was just a dark place I would go sometimes, without even knowing why or how.
4 years ago, I stood up for a cause, I stood up for a job I still believe is one of the most beautiful jobs ever, I stood up for the importance of culture, and I stood up for my beloved co-workers. But moreover, and for the first time in my life, I stood up for myself. I could feel it in my guts: “Céline, if you don’t fight for yourself right now, you’re gonna regret this for the rest of your life.” So, I stood up and fought for myself. I just couldn’t sit and watch the ship sinking into the deep ocean.
Hanami is the perfect beauty made by Mother Nature. The reminder of how ephemeral life is. That life doesn’t last. And that the beauty of it is actually its ephemeral state. We wouldn’t pay this much attention to blooming sakura if they were blooming for a long time. The fact that it’s lasting just a few days makes it even more beautiful, yet magical.
We tried to do the maths in the car. How many years had it been since I was here for the last time? 5 years? 7 years? Years are running fast. And the Anjou region is far from Alsace. At least, that’s how I used to consider it. How does it change your conception of time and space when you take a year time to travel around a whole country like New Zealand?