A couple of years ago I used to dream of running away. Home felt suffocating and I used to think in opposites; in runaway land, freedom and poverty were therefore inseparable and a place’s dirtiness was the mark of authenticity for the dreams I could chase there. I’ve more or less lost this obsession now that I’ve stopped thinking in binaries and managed to build ties and find freedoms in my home town; I can’t make up my mind whether this proves responsibility or jadedness, but it definitely feels like a resignation.
Still, I did manage to run away this New Year’s Eve. I spent it on the streets of Sibiu with some drunken acquaintainces and a couple of friends that dragged me away from the group and into a kebab place when they noticed I was becoming hypothermic. It was 3 o’clock in the night or the morning and after I warmed up enough for my brain to start working I realised I had found my way away from my home country to a place that truly belonged to the space of my old runaway dreams. This holiday was full of such magic moments. I’d almost forgotten their taste – at home, the real world gets lost in a bog of routine. It would do me good to remember to break out of this every now and then…with a bit of luck, next time I won’t need five days in a strange city to do that. Running away may be just a teenage fancy, but the need for magic is real.
Tags: 3am, dreams, holiday, new year's eve, running away
