Travel me!

by Lorena-Ella Enache translated by Miqhael-M. Khesapeake Along with you I wished to see San Francisco! Arriving at Sofia I told myself that everythings over, that the plane tickets are more expensive than a kiss, so I decided to take a train up to Vienna. When the collector asked for my ticket, I told him that I dont know whether I am in the right train. -You know, where Ive got to arrive its just somewhere farther from San Francisco. The next city after it, you know. -I dont know; which one? -No idea. But I just dont want San Francisco. Like playing the dumb he was stupidly looking at me, like saying: "So, what I have to do with this, why should I know it?" -I see. But why did you take this train then? -But I dont see. What should there any reason be for which to see? -Very well, Miss... he was obviously troubled. Have a nice journey then! And a lot of luck! -Yep, indeed... you do bid me that luck, yep... There in Berlin I realized how many walls separate us from one another... first of all, those walls behind which we are their slaves, after that, dozens of rooms where we are straying about in searching for any door leading to any room where to live someone. Who should be called in, to give us a hand in pulling down our walls? We are too weak to do something, despite our hearts, more gray than the lead itself. London. Im not sure, but I think its raining out of my eyes when I see the Big-Bang. I mean, its got those many people who know it and love it... but I have no one either, because I need only one. My mind is a misty day of London. You lost me on a path which was defined by some others. New York. The Big Apple, yeah, the subtilest irony it is. The skyscrapers are scraping my retina bearing me with the thought toward those days when I was scraping the sky myself with that shadow of ours, over there on an eight-story building with those minute floors. Its like for each of those lights consecutively appearing at that irrational multitude of windows I should draw on my face a smile, gratefully to be here. I dont know how to express my gratitude, especially because Im not yet gratified by any acknowledgement of theirs. How many puns, purposeless wordplays, yes... But I shall carry on with these in Brooklyn, over there where I scratch my desires upon the chilly air. Im passing like at full speed by the image of Statue of Liberty, since this notoriety of a big lump seeing so much of the history makes me feel scared, Im going to Fifth Avenue, where Im gonna beg for a lump of drama, as to replace that mine. Now, a halt just for a little, in Pheonix, as to cover myself with ashes so I cant be recognized there in Los Angeles, where Im gonna sell my soul to the casinos, where Ill hope for a little bit of luck, you know, in exchange for it. I dont know what narcotics made me be arrived where I should not be, here, and by quite that way I intended to arrive. Ive arrived and been myself arrived - at my own feed-up. Now I should hide myself from this city, because as soon as it finds me, its gonna sacrifice me on the Golden Gate, just trying to find that gate to my gold heart. But I dont have such a thing. Neither a gate, nor the gold. Now I must run away from all, to leave this place so full of my desire of being with you here. Yes I know, Paris! Weve never been there, in Paris. Youve always been saying lets go for a walk by the Seine and lets wait over there for any falling of stars into our palms from the Eiffel Tower. Yep, I must go to Paris, but somewhere further from it, in any little town next to it, but by no way there in its chaotical nets. Maybe the city Iasi, yes...