City of Brussels, September 27, 2024.
The rain was falling in gusts, crashing violently onto the cobblestones of Brussels. The drops formed a dense curtain, blurring the world before me, making the city seem almost unreal. My footsteps echoed in the puddles, each splash seemingly awakening a distant memory, a wound that had not fully healed.
I was walking backward, unable to sink deeper into this reality, as if my feet were trying to flee. The wind howled through the streets, but it was the sirens, those echoing in the distance, that pulled me back, back to the life I had left behind. They reminded me why I had come here, to Brussels, under this pouring rain.
Each step took me back to the days before, to the moments when I had believed that life could be different, that the wounds would not follow me everywhere. But they were there, at every turn, on every street corner, in every reflection of a puddle where I saw my younger face, more naive, still untouched by pain.
Memories intertwined with the echoes of the city, this city that, despite everything, had never abandoned me. Every siren seemed to whisper that what I had fled from before was now inevitably catching up to me. Yet, under this pouring rain, as I walked backward, I knew it was too late to run again. I had to face what I had fled, here, in the rain-soaked streets of Brussels, where everything had begun once more.
And despite the rain that drowned everything, my footsteps continued to splash in the puddles, marking each moment of this impossible return.
Thanks so much to Tanya (girl under the rain).
1 окт 2024
