Air.

I think it's all in the air.

The autumn has come to Poland and my lungs fill up with the cold air. The only way I go is to the ground, I go to the ground, like a balloon that is just cooling down.


I don't fucking want to cool down!

So, where are you from?

D: So, you two, where are you from anyway?
P: Uhm... I really don't like talking about that. I live here for a few years now, but well, originally I come from Holland...
A: But he's not Dutch!
P: (smiling) Yes, I'm not Dutch.
D: I don't get it... Bet well, now you're going to Portugal, yes?
P: Yes, I'm just walking there in a minute.
D: Walking... ha... And you - are you going there also?
A: Me, no, I'm leaving Malaga tomorrow or the next morning; Madrid and then directly to Poland.
D: So you're going back home?
A: No, what do you mean? I'm just going there for a moment.
P: She's not Polish!
A: No, I'm definitely not Polish!
D: So when are you back in Malaga?
A: In half a year if it all works well.
D: And I don't understand...but who cares? 


Yes, who cares? Now we are here. Now we are laughing by the bookstore window: Patrick noticed El ladron de gallinas there; we're crying because of the story, because it's just here, looking at us in the middle of the night, because of how he got to know it, and how much he loves it. At some point he takes out a copy of one of the pages from his pocket - Look, now they're playing chess! Hihi, the hen is playing chess with the fox! Hihihi!... I will laugh everytime I see a hen or a fox now. Every fox and every hen will always make me happy.

Start collecting, if you are not doing this already. Collecting and connecting, so you can love everything, everywhere.




The day I find my mind able to stay on one subject, I'll consider myself dead.

Maybe I'll feel better using English as I speak to myself in this country.

Let's give it a try.


Anyways. Wtf, CouchSurfing? What do you mean, Welcome home! - how the hell can you call this home? Yes, a country of origin. No, not even the part of it that I live in. Just, eh, I'd like it so much more if you said that back in Spain. Or anytime I log in from the road. The Road, yessss!...

And well. As CS is trying hard to make me squat or crash in the parks more, maybe it's high time to go back to Mother Hospitality Club, or look for some different options - which is exactly what I'm doing now. For an interesting review of the organizations - and some truly fucked CS facts go here.

No more talking about CS. Let's get back to my favorite subject.

YES, squatting!...
Over-night "squats", those wonderful derelict/under-construction/abandoned for good, for holidays, for the winter, for.../... houses, sheds, gardens (squatting gardens, how I adore it!), eh!
Finding those that actually exist - just because you bump into them, into people that live in them, or going all through the continent "because there's this cave squat with running water near Granada!". For a night, drink, concert - to visit, to stay, to live. La, lalala.

And how beautifully things connect. What would scare me away a few years ago is now such a wonderfully huge part of what I am, we are. Lalala, la!

YESSS, parks!
Beaches, benches, train stations, pubs - all being wonderful little homes for a moment. Dry or not so dry, silent and peaceful or well, not really. Who cares, in the end? Just rest, give your head some sleep to start moving again in a few hours.

This open hippie disco-bar in Caños de Meca, with mattresses all around - who remembers now that it was raining? It didn't rain so much anyway.

Those stoned Slovenian rockers that took us from the road in Serbian mountains, the ones for which we changed our route - to stay with them, sleep in their camper, drink and sing when it really got freezing cold in Žabljak. Somersaults in the snow. Lala, lala!...


Felippe didn't like the mosquitoes and mice in the park; for me it felt more like home, like field work - I love the rodent voices so much!

The turtles on Nicky's terrace wouldn't go out because of the freaking wind. I feel cheated, need to be back; I want to be able to say: Now I remember this one morning in Gibraltar when I woke up with a turtle bite!

And however unconnected it may all seem - it's all the same story, it's a single, long story. And in the end it all ends up with someone giving you a loving hug, with someone else saying you're a sick sociopath never to find love. 
Oh, well.

Homes, homes, homes. There is no big truth, no one and forever - and AH, thank you for that, Mundo pequenito!



And thanks CS for giving me a reason to learn, and not to study. Eh. Work, silly girl, and you will move to a better climate so soon, so soon!

to start.

Wow, so I have a blog. A tiny newspaper written by me about myself. What for?
It still surprises me how difficult it is to find people who share my view on this life and spend it in a similar manner. So let's see if I have something worthy to tell and show you.

As it was taking too much of my time to answer the Why create yet another blog on someones very personal views, paths or interests? question, and the idea of giving myself some blog-space did not escape - why waste any more time? Even if this writing proves to be pointless in the end, it will still be worth more than just thinking about writing.


So here I am, buenos dias, viaja conmigo y te digo todo!