Growing roots
It’s interesting looking back at the crazy desert times from the cocoon I find myself in now. I travel in my mind, taking a trip down Memory Lane where I see myself as a different person. Or maybe I’m still the same, just doing completely different things. The travelling wild child is taking a break, letting the Playa dust settle for a bit. Choosing city life for a while and all the city things that come with it. A job, an alarm to wake up to, bills to pay, traffic to swear at, bras to wear. Dancing from bar to bar, live music as much as the heart desires, friends within reach, bike rides and vinyl nights.
Instead of digging in the dust at Burning Man this year, I stayed in Brussels. Hanging out with friends from faraway lands, dancing in the park, kissing familiar faces, kicking up dust in my own little hometown. And it’s been sweet, oh so sweet! I realise, for the first time in years: I am home. I feel good here, growing roots in the cracks of the pavement in my neighbourhood. Belonging somewhere, being a part of a community. Seeing familiar faces on a daily base is what makes me truly happy right now. Having friends from Australia, Canada and Germany visit, showing them my favourite places, falling in love with Brussels again and again.
I think the Burning Man FOMO finally made place for JOMO.
The Joy Of Missing Out on an epic party, to create my own.