We are not human beings derek
#We are not human beings derek skin
Although the weather was warm and seemed to drip onto our skin like honey, we romanticised about our travels to come, not even realizing the beauty before us. I forced a blink and widened my eyes as if I was in shock. Christie looked at Elisha and myself and with great excitement she said, "Can you believe it? In a few months time we will be on a beach in Spain!". We stood on the beach, no shoes on, our pants rolled up with our feet sinking into the sand as the waves rushed it. It smells of old people and unbrushed teeth. The dirty, warm air soaks into your skin. It's annoying like hot breath of the back of your neck from the person sighing behind you on a bus. This city smells like the breath of a man who eats too much bread. Madrid is like a sexy woman with too much eyeliner. "Lo siento, no hablo espanol" is all i can manage to mutter before I ask for something in english. It's the raw strength in peoples arms as they walk slowly but powerfully down one way streets.
Spain, it's not just the weather that makes you sweat here.
If you're not in love with someone you're not alive. Lovers lace the streets of Paris, Nice, Venice and Verona. It is a romantic, overwhelming feeling which transcends peaople and human involvment. It's not a terribly sexual or partnership kind of love. There is a salty, sweet love in the air in Europe. Without hesitation or the reservations of a grown up, the young boy, no older than 9 or 10 blew me a kiss. One boy from the group looked up at our bus and saw me smiling at them. I smiled at them as they laughed and played carelessly in the summer heat. As we stopped in the exhaustive traffic I entertained myself by watching a group of boys playing at an empty bus stop. With the pebbled beach on the right and a line of brightly coloured shops on the left I sat there smiling. I gazed romantically out the window of the bus as we drove slowly in the busy traffic of Nice. The rain cried for me when i couldn't manage it myself. And just as i felt i could cry rain dropped lightly onto the bus windows.
#We are not human beings derek full
The country side, full of freshly plucked grape vines, sway gently in the summer rain. I gazed out of the window numbed by the beauty bathed in clear sunlight. The bus looks dangerously close to the edge of the road which falls far bellow to a bed of thick grass and wild flowers. There's something about this dimly lit cabin, something romantic, calming, austere. It feels as though we are not flying through the air to a far off land, but that we are stationary, floating in a timeless space left to ponder what has been left behind and what is to come. As we glide effortlessly through the air my heart dances anxiously in my chest. Much the same as the sedimentation of a prehistoric rock, the sky is too layered by time. Looking outside the window of the plane a golden stream of light laces the sky. "I believe that human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them, but that life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves."