27102011

Stepping on feathers.

I feel frustrated.

According to the graph of travelling abroad, the first hard hit occurs after the first month. We've been travelling for a bit over a month now and during the last week I've been facing lots of minor nuisances, which seem to have a common purpose: demolishing my good mood.

It all probably started in Thames. It was actually quite freezing in our hostel, especially in the mornings. I wore lots of warm clothing but I still managed to catch a cold. It was a basic flu, the kind of a flu, which mainly just annoys you without really being an actual sickness. The flu lasted for three days and almost turned into a fever in while in Auckland. But I got over it.

Tiredness, uncertainty about jobs, slight skin problems, more uncertainty about jobs, noticing my own physical condition weakening, getting a sunburn, allergic reactions every morning, itching in my arms. None of them are things that would crumble my mountain of well-being into the sea of despair but I have felt a change.

When you're walking down the street on a day that feels like Autumn. You know its going to rain soon and you start walking faster to get under the way. You grab the hood of your jacket with both hands and lift it up to cover your head. You slump your shoulders as if it would help against the rain, to crouch, to forfeit before the strike. With your palm upwards you reach out and you can feel the first drop splashing against your skin, shattering into tiny cells delivering a message throughout your whole body. It's too late to run. Rain will overcome.

Walking on broken glass rips your feet open, cuts wounds into your flesh and inflicts pain, turned into tears in the corners of your eyes. Stepping on feathers is waiting for the descent down on the shattered glass. Fragile feathers under my feet.