It's cold. Just a few hours ago the moon in its first quarter was illuminating the sky with an almost blinding light, but now the moonlight seems to plead for the clouds - which have covered up the entire sky like dry saltpan mud, like the thick, tablecloth-like bread they make here - to let some of its light shine through to the desert. It's surprisingly bright. Through the gaps among the clouds, which are hurried across the sky, the stars are shining like sequins on the cloak of a sorcerer. I think I'm probably walking towards west. That's where something is pulling me. I'm taking a journey inside myself.
Before I started on this journey the thing I was most excited about was getting rid of the watch on my wrist and switching off my mobile. The watch just stayed on. What's the time? Half past one?! Come on, Tilen, enough for today, pull over and let's go to bed. What's the time? Three o'clock. Let's hurry to catch the Iranian border open. What's the time? Eleven thirty pm... What time do you close? What's the time? Darn, I'm supposed to meet with Manca in half an hour in the centre of Tehran!! Since I didn't take my watch off myself, my love did it for me. The bike. While riding it last week I broke and dislocated my ulna when the front wheel got a strong blow.
Due to all the incidents on the road the phone stayed on. And later I had personal reasons to keep it on. While rushing through Iran I wasn't even aware of being in Iran. I lived in a parallel world; I only knew that I had to get someplace warm as soon as possible and that we had to leave the country before our visas expire. Plus, I worried more about my home improvements than I did about the road. Yesterday I finally turned the phone off and put it away. I turned Slovenia off and all the unfinished business there. It'll wait, it won’t be the end of the world. If it's not heavy enough, it'll be carried away by the breeze, the gust of wind, a hurricane, to which I voluntarily exposed myself over the next nine months. Or maybe a tornado that can get the strongest when the weather is still and not even the finest sand grains on top of a dune are moving.
It's cold, I didn't bring my gloves... Where would I put them anyway? Dr. Mortaz put a lovely plaster on my left arm, reaching from above my elbow all the way to my fingers. The air is... noisily dry and cold... clean. It pricks my fingers, my face, my nostrils. I walk. Every now and then the moon sheds light from the left on the trodden sand before me. Messages to Slovenia which are carried away without an echo. Calls which don't solve problems. A visit to the workshops which can't help. Freedom! The phone switched off, the watch put away, I'm finally down to earth! At the end, a person is all alone. With no exceptions. That's why I set out on this journey. That's what I wanted. It’s like being alone in the middle of the ocean. Did I buy my freedom, an old truck, only to take it from one workshop to another?! Or will I fix it myself with a little help? Tilen, the illusion is over. Take a breath, dive into the freezing water that you chose yourself, you'll swim alone, in a penetrating, ecstatic cry of an uneasy self-sufficiency. That's why you went away.
The bushes around me are getting thicker and thicker. The veil of clouds descents to the horizon all around me like a lid over a delicious meal. The ground is full of holes, my feet sink a couple of times. I'm surprised I don't see the desert mice anywhere. Before I left home, the thermometer showed 4.8ºC. Is that the reason? I'm down to earth now. I let go. Imagine jumping off the plane backwards. You hold on, the air resistance is wearing you out. You make the decision. You can’t breathe in, the plane is getting far... the air makes your cheeks red, you're swimming, you're free! I'll probably never see the apartment that has more or less been my home for 22 years. I don't even want to, really. I exchanged it for a new one in August. A moving apartment. A snail. I'm happy, I did what I dreamed of for ten years. But I still feel anxious. I actually didn't even think of my room in Maribor until today. I was swimming through a parallel world, full of haste and adrenaline. No watch, no phone, only the desert. And myself. And... my thoughts... which are patient... they're waiting. They're in no hurry. And then the moon hides and they start crawling out of every mouse-hole, every bush...
It's cold. Let's go home. I turn around. Follow my instinct... Hmmm... will I find shelter or will I find home? I get a feeling I should be there already. I feel that I took a wrong turn. That I’m not on the right road. But I know I am. I stop... more to the south...? More to the north...? No! I'm going on! I know the road I took will take me someplace warm. I carry on with determination, following my instinct.
Pretty soon I see the silhouette of my home right in front of me. My home, which I was looking at in the Slovenian Karst just some weeks ago, was rising towards the sky from the desert sand, looking immense.