Travelling

Crying journeys to be ended and suns to be lost. New smells bringing new flavours, along the road while waiting the crashing on the next turn; carefully cuddling the keys of the music played, to make out of the listening an understanding of the followed steps. Sailing the wind and feeling the strength of fate lying like a knife in your chest, as nice as sunning your back in the warmth of the sun, when soaked through with water and salt. Surrendering wars to be won with no weapons. I’ve got passion, I’ve got faith and I’ve got hope.