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dimanche 27 avril 2014

Letters from the Northern Lands


My Love

Today we crossed the island we are on. A harsh walk up the mountain granted us yet another splendid view. On one side, the mountains falling down onto a small lake, with the sea off in the distance. On the other side, the mountains falling down onto a small lake, with the sea off in the distance. Like a mirror-image, both sides were the same, yet different. The climb was hard, and the descent even more so, but as we gaze upon the small bay a few dozen feet below our camp, it seems well worth it. We finished of the day by going fishing, my friend for mackerel and myself for crabs. But without success.
The sea ! What is it good for ? Absolutely nothing !
Well, except the view, of course. Now we are cooking our frugal diner, writing and reading, the sun still warm even at this late hour.
As I sit here, thinking, dreaming, I realize that I have gotten used to the traveler's way of life.
I sleep better, I am in better shape, and my fuel efficiency is also higher than before.
My mind feels sharp, so much so that sometimes I fell it is cutting up my brain. But I do not care. My thoughts have been sluggish, slow and patient, but now they fly again, soaring from one subject to the next, defying logic and common sense. And I let them. We have recovered from the harshness of the first few days, from the short, sleepless nights under the never-setting sun. And now we shall do as we please, knowing that we have earned that right.
Lo and behold, we shall go mad ! For madness is our birthright, our path to salvation. Only those who do not live shall stay sane. And we live, my Love, more so than most. But you already know that.
Remember those first weeks we met. Remember those frenzied days, where everything that was new was good. Remember as we raced down the street, leaving our restaurant bill unpaid, as we made Love on the rooftops of Paris. Remember that gondola we stole in Venice, and the night we spent in jail, laughing and singing so loud that they let us walk free in the morning.
Madness is our due, it is who we are. It is what makes life worth living.
I know that we have become calmer since, and I do not blame you for it, not anymore than I blame myself. Society tries to calm us down, to tie us down, for society is order and calm and rules. But we, we are madness and chaos. We will break free of the calm, of the chains they lay on us again and again. We will fight, and fall, and stand up to fight again. For they can not harm us. Nobody can. Madness is freedom, madness is love, and nobody will ever be able to tame it.
Even though I had forgotten, here I have found it again. Had I left for less time, I might have missed it, I might have felt the need of calm comfort and not the urge of madness.
But I did not, for my steps guide me to madness. And to you.
For you bring out the crazy in me. You have done so before, and you are doing it again.
And so I shall go find madness, in the vast blue oceans and the windy mountaintops, and I shall bring it back to you. And once again, my Love, we will be mad together, mad about each other. Like we were meant to be.


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