we had the same upbringing. being alone was our shelter when the loneliness was yet to be defined. our bodies moved silently through the years of screaming. the crossroads came and went and we always chose to keep on moving. travelers' inns gave us temporary relief, and we were grateful. the world was huge. and we were good in being inconspicuous. so no one noticed.
we spoke many languages. we communicated with the strange peoples we met on the sides of highways and told them stories. we laughed with them and shared our meals with their wide eyed curious offspring. we hugged and were being hugged in return. then we would leave. moving was much easier than having to stay. we dreamed, extensively, about the days yet to come and wonders yet to be weaved from mundane. sometimes, we slept.
we understood each other, all the way to the bones and through the bloodstream. whenever we met on our wanderings, our souls intertwined and formed a shelter in the storm of mutual loneliness. it never lasted for a long time. we were all crap at staying so one or the other would take off in the morning. but we understood each other. and every time, we would meet again.
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