“Monday, Lisbon. Tuesday in Paris. Wednesday full of Moscow. Thursday in Belgrade. And on Friday, police are kicking me off of the beach in Barcelona. Now I sit in a plane and let time carry me from one place to another; places that remain only as a recollection during a disconnected week. And freedom envelops me. And I know how great its value is. That it has no limit.
For it forces a person out of themselves and enriches them with its open game of human encounters. Most of these encounters stay on the surface, do not penetrate the skin. Others will then again attain the status of friendship and love. More important, though, is how this or that human being with whom we have crossed paths showed themselves to be – with all of their peculiarities, in what makes them different the most, in what makes them who they are. And how they influenced us, because there is nothing worse than knowingly dying away, locked inside yourself, without having acknowledged another.
A person then stops being themselves. Nothing is more difficult and more beautiful than traversing the countryside from one place to the next, from one destiny to another. Wanting and allowing people and places to get close to you. But every start to this learning process consists not in our trying to force our way into someone at every cost. Because, as Otokar Březina writes: “Not recognized, souls pass one another, each dimming its lantern in an encounter, distrustful…“.” Text by Ondřej Hložek.
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