I enjoy whatever happens in my head when I am alone with my thoughts on a long walk with nothing and no one around. It took me some time to realize this, but it‘s actually not as terrifying as I always thought it was. It‘s the place where writing comes from. From listening to all of these things that are happening up there in the back of my head. It is so easy to just ignore them and to be too busy to ever truly deal with them for years. And once I was forced to, when the pandemic ended the life I had had before, all of these thoughts up there were so loud and terrifying, but also to some degree very wonderful.
The only chance I had lately had to rediscover the joy in walking around into nowhereness was several days ago, when, as chaotic as my life can get, I got stranded on a train station that was so far in the middle of nowhere that there was not even a toilet available, and I kept on walking searching for one. I was walking so far that eventually I was looking for the right bush to pee into, and it was a nice reminder of all the months I had spend like this. Walking with music on my headphones that made me cry, that made me feel once more like the 11 year old girl I once was that had just lost her home. All of those walks spent with a bottle of wine also ended in a search for a private bush, so that seems to be a pattern.
“Or you’re just too weak”, my witch giggles in the back of my head. “Remember the night we cried, got drunk and found this nice bush to pee into it?”
And we both actually do.
It‘s so painful but wonderful to let the thoughts wander.
Mistress witch writes 