Morning Stories: Small paths

On wet feet and being part of the world

I went for a walk this morning. The village was quiet, many window shutters still closed. I was walking along the river, listening to the birds and planning the route in my head. I wanted to come back home dry footed, but I failed miserably. I’m no good at following the road. There’s always a small (wet) path somewhere which will catch my attention and I just have to check it out.

I know most of these paths and I should know better, but I just can’t stay away from them. It’s like stepping into a different world sometimes. I’m escaping the world for a small moment.

When I walk I feel free. I feel that I belong to the world, the nature, myself. There’s often a thought crossing my mind to ditch Instagram and connect with myself more. Just write in my notebook, on my blog and in these little letters. Stop being present in a place that doesn’t really feel like I’m wanted there. Be present here, between the trees, on the page and on a path, where my feet get wet.

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