Making way

If you make way for anything does it mean there’s one thing replacing another? Does something always have to go? I find myself doubting because the news are too loud, the abandonment is too quiet and my hands are tided up by most silences. The remaining voices are just too often reenforcing the whirlwind apathy is built on. There’s a brutal cacophony going on, no room for anything clear. 

I need to step back and refocus, but I can’t let go of the world outside these paths still in need of basic navigation possibilities; perhaps they’ll be so forever. Maybe it’s just the lack of certainties in me. Or possibly this is the stuff actual isolation is made of, not that I really craved for it. My lungs are hurt, our heads are heavy, it seems that there’s no other option than further away. I hope that’s still back closer to something healthier and more meaningful for life to come. 

We found the trail to the next village anyway and my partner made it able to be walked again, although there is still a fallen tree blocking the simplest passage for the last meters. We’ll be back. Night fell before we could come back walking, so we waited for the school bus to take us home. It was dark and it was cold, but I struggled to save the memory of the blazing rays of sun on my skin earlier today.

Rebuilding an old path by the Ribeira de Telhares, 

between Está Bem and Santa-Clara-a-Velha,

Odemira, Portugal