12/07

"I shall be gone and live or stay and die" Shakespeare

Droga droga droga, z nowu na drodze

Leaving France


The first four persons to give me a lift were arabians. Morad, Nabila, Mohammed... and an other one, anonymous. They got me lost from my way, but talking with them was great, I already felt far. Other traditions, open heart curiosity, frankly in contact, staring in the eyes.Then two cars with french drivers, nice, but the talk was not so free and deep at the same time, i was almost silent.

But this time, they took me big lifts, and in the good direction...

Hitch-hiking, waiting for someone kind enough to give me a lift, I was looking with curiosity the people from my country passing by. Sometimes, I could feel they would never stop at the point i didn't even try to make a sign, because the face they made was enough. But just smiling to those gray people, fearing the others, proud to drive their toy-looking cars made by an industry enjoying to enslave them...

Enough.

Anyway, watching those sad people, I was so haooy not to get in their cars, in which i woul have feel uncomfortable, anxious, just thinking about the end of my promiscuity with this guy.

Hitch-hiking is great

Two notes :
Camping cars seem the best vehicle for an hitch-hiker, but they NEVER stop...
Gorgeous girls often smile to you, but they won't stop, that's too bad.