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Samstag, 10. November 2012

New York 1984

I was driving a dodge 1969 charger. Don't ask me where I had gotten it. I remember the smell of my leather jacket... or maybe it was just the car. 90 miles per hour into the wrong direction - away from home. I should have driven into the other direction, but it didn't matter to me anymore. She was sleeping on the backseat, snuggling her head into the suitcases and bags. We left everything behind, and it felt right. It just did.

It must have been around 5 a.m. in the morning, because the sun was rising as we flew across America. I had the window down and the cold morning air felt like a drug to me. I didn't want to stop, I never wanted to stop ever again. We drove across George Washington bridge and the shadow of each rail flickered through the car. This must have been what woke her up. I saw her open her eyes, yawning ... then she put her feet up on the passenger seat and sang along. We were listening to some rockband but I don't remember the name.

We went on for days and weeks. Sleeping at trailer parks, swimming in the lakes at night, rushing towards nowhere. I remember feeling alive, more alive than ever before. The world never seemed to stop and we just kept rushing on and on. Without a lane, without a plan, without anywhere to go to, without anywhere to be.

One night I fell asleep at the wheel. That's all I remember.

S.M


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