Here you can go outside.
you can go outside, walk alone.

But every time, on the walk back home you realise
It is not much about the “outside”.

It is not about the fresh air.
fresh air finds its way through your windows anyway…

It is the “the presence”,
the presence of those who you laughed with,
those you shared a meal with.

About the stories we made, the stories we can make.
It was more about the times we united, we danced.

It was knowing that even if you do not have the sea beside you,
you can always fly to it.

It was never much about “outside”.

And now, if you stop dreaming of life getting back to “normal”
at least for a moment,
if you stop contemplating what you can not have now,
only for some moment,

If you do a pause,
you realise
all that matters, is still there,
perhaps not always and not for everyone, but for most of the times and for most of  us.
You realise nothing is really in lack of anything.

You recognise the chance of sharing with your loved ones,
a family you share stories with, sweet ones and bitter ones
a friend close to your heart,
maybe a lover  you wake up to,
or even any other human being with whom you share a street.
you still feel them, hear them
and you still get mad at them…

This is not really a quarantine,
what our minds live sometimes at “normal life times”
is much more of a quarantine.

How tight we hold our hearts,
against life and the core of it,
is way tighter than a quarantine.

Here you can go outside,
you can go outside, walk alone.
but it is not about where you walk,
It is not about the “outside”.

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