|I'm sorry about the shit quality of the pictures but they're from Facebook.|
That, the man in the picture above, is my cousin.
He is a man of conviction, but he is also a man of dreams. He would kill me if he knew that I'm sharing these pictures my blog, but he would never suspect I have this blog. (Because the feeling that I should share this piece of internetia with my real-life people died out a few years ago.)
A few years ago, my cousin was the studdest of studs but then he let his hair and belly grow because he isn't going to fight against natural occurrences.
Like the need to wander.
He's leaving on Wednesday -that's four or five days from now- on a very long and very undefined trip through South America, with nothing but a couple of his favourite books, his guitar, a scrap of money and the bare necessities.
He told us -you know, the family- about his plans, because that kind of thing were you go all Into the Wild on your family is not exactly pleasant, and I swear, he's such a good person, he'd never do a thing like that.
But I bet at times he wishes he wouldn't have told anyone, for they all fight. My whole family is constantly fighting against him, against his current, they're the dams in the river of his existence and now I'm going to stop this sentence because it's starting to get mushy.
I bet he wishes he hadn't told anyone because they argued. Why South America, the continent in which you've lived in your whole life? Why alone? Why now? Why don't you visit the Galapagos with us, when we go there in a few weeks? Bla bla bla.
And yet, I understand him.
And my soul will travel with him.
Because I can't go. Not now, at least.
I will be the stride in his feet and the lice in his hair because he is living out the one dream that I suspect I'll never be able to fill out.
Leaving. Alone. With destiny as your path.
Because I'm a girl. And I can get raped, you know. And maybe I don't even have the convictions.
I hope he uploads some pictures, but I bet he won't.