The Road to Sleep. The Endless Road

Couldn't sleep last night. It wasn't for the lack of exhaustion or desire. After all it happens sometimes - lying awake or wandering about the place, not really finding yours.

Two, three, four cups of hot milk and honey- and still nothing. Not a wink of sleep. Not even a thought of it.
And the sky looking back at you through the window leans you to linger with it a little bit longer.
Not a sound of bird. Empty windows that are full of sleeping people. Rare cars creeping along the roads. Life seem to be lost on the first side, still you can hear its breath in everything -hot jelly air rises up from the roads, which were gathering the warmth of day and sun, and now giving it back to the greedy atmosphere; the color of grass from bright green has turned to magical emerald.

Feels like my tired mind is the only creature watching it. You can hardly feel alone in a mega polis, still any opportunity of experiencing it thrills better than cold
ocean waves.

All of a sudden came to think that I'd gladly pick two pairs of jeans, pair of t-shirts, push them into the suitcase and be ready to set off somewhere. And it would not really matter where. East, south, west or north. The thing that would matter is that it will be the place I haven't been lucky to visit yet.

Hell yes. Where's my ticket? Must be lost somewhere in the pockets...Nope. Having failed to find it I come back to reality. If only the reality wasn't that ticket that should have appeared in one of the pockets. Re-checked. Still nothing.

It's not that I'm tired of this place. It's not that I don't want to leave it. It's about the desire to pack and go in Whatever Direction.

Still I wouldn't like to spend my journey alone. New people, new ideas and some new food are welcome on my nowhere way. How thrilling it will be to wake up and realize that all the roads around are Yours. Mine. Just new.

Something cold in hands. Oh yes. Milk is almost freezing. The first gold beams of the new Sun are crawling through the curtains.
Well, time to sleep.

The bed is cold but soft, and the quiet snoring of flies is more like a lullaby.

And then the sleep slowly holds me and drifts away. I hold on tight to the ticket in my hand.
The road to Whatever Direction. The road to sleep. The endless road.