'burning every bridge that i cross, to find some beautiful place to get lost'. somehow, elliott's words don't lose their meanings even when everything else does. it hasn't been long since my sister and i found out what burn bridges meant: the impossibility to go back.
i like it, it seems i'm always moving away. i was told already that it's not the place, it's me. i don't care, really, as long as i can leave. as thi and i say, three years is enough. it took us that time to be annoyed by the place and our friends in cuiabá. i'm here, in florianópolis, for three years now. and it's enough.
besides not going back anywhere, i ain't going back to anyone, and i ain't taking them. elliott's words are not just about a beautiful place to get lost, but about going there alone. it's nothing more than admitting isolation. i leave, and i leave alone.