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The Path Foregone

The Path Foregone

NEW ZEALAND | Thursday, 15 May 2014 | Views [114] | Scholarship Entry

I never would have thought, I never would have dreamed of this place, of this life, these colours, these tastes and smells. How did I end up here? What did I do to qualify for this life? Did I learn some great lesson along the journey? Did I understand something others have not? How could I tell. Fortune smiles on me, while I cannot but help look over my shoulder to the path foregone. The path I know so well, the path I studied so closely in case I would for a moment not know where I was, not know where I was standing, walking, running, where I was falling. It was only when I stumbled across those stones, that I took notice of them. It was only when I took off my jacket, that I felt the drops patting my skin and found the cause of that ever so slippery surface. And only when I looked up did I discover the light illuminating each corner of this path. Corners I had not seen before. Stones I had not noticed. Flowers blooming, and leaking their fragrance. The path I thought I knew.
I look back and see every stone, and many more than those found only to be stumbled over. But what would I have done had I seen as I do now? Would I make the way clear? Would I lift each stone and smell each flower? Would I wear some other shoes that I would not slip and slide? Would I look up more, or more closely to the path that I would know for sure where I was? I ask myself if I would change anything. Would I dare? But what would become of me then? How could I imagine myself on another path, perhaps another direction? I cannot. Such a thing is beyond me. Because it is not me. The bruise on my left arm, the scar on my shoulder, is that not me? I don’t know any other. And now I am here, in this place, bruised and scarred. The light illuminates from above and all around, it illuminates the stones and the flowers, it falls with the rain, and dries my wet face. How did I end up here? In this place, with these colours, these tastes and smells? What a beautiful place it is! Yet I look ahead, I look on and see the path continued. The same path, there is no difference, there is nothing new under the sun. The same stones, the same flowers, the same path. Yet the light is stronger, the path brighter, perhaps the way is lighter? Would I have it any different? I know no other way, no other path.

Tags: 2014 Travel Writing Scholarship - Euro Roadtrip

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