This morning I was sitting on the TGV train from Paris to Brussels. My throat aching and my tears burning in my eyes. I had a feeling of going from nothing to nothing and being lost in the middle.
Going from Guadeloupe, the beach, the holiday, to Paris with a quiet day in a peaceful apartment and an animated night with calamari risotto, white wine, the French qualifying to the world cup and something that could be called love. Going from that cold Paris where confidences were met by silence, longing met by silence and silence finally met by silence.
Leaving at 168 miles an hour, from nothing to nothing.
Brussels. Going to Brussels where I'm now just a guest in other peoples homes, where my boxes stands in a basement that smells of a litter tray and where thankfulness has become my first name. To Brussels where I never know where to land. To Brussels that was my home but now transforms into this "nothing".
The sun shined in and dazzled my tears, I wondered if also I, am I about to turn into a nothing that travels between two insignificant points, that really could have meant a lot?