#14

The only help he could offer, he told me, was to advise me in relation to his clientele, if there was anyone interested in this and could help me. Further than that I was on my own. But I knew where to go now.
I wanted to talk. I wanted to talk in front of millions. I’d settle for simple ideas at first though, as with the ideas I could get somewhere, whereas without anything there was nowhere to go. I wanted to help people.
I looked back down at my newspaper. The front page was covered with revolution, when I looked closely inside I saw many countries having this kind of uprising happening. An uprising would be good, but how could one start one of those in a democratic country about simply the environment or the people in the country? A revolution about the open space of the world or just the city could be on the horizon. That was my hope, my dream, my wish.
My goal.

#13

#12

One day, when I just chose to drown my sorrows at the local pub, the bartender, in his infinite wisdom, came to me and asked: “What’s wrong, my friend?” It was a Tuesday afternoon and the population of the pub was up to three regulars, me – with my pint and my newspaper looking up at me – and another bloke.
“I want to help…” I started by saying but trailed off. Some article about a strike dawned in my line of sight as my eyes followed my voice down.
“The kitchen needs a lot of help in the cleaning section.” he joked.
“The environment” I continued with a twinkle in my defiance now.
“Well, you’re right, the environment here could need some perking up as well” he was fishing for the rest of my sentence.
“The one outside, the one that we’re killing slowly but steadily…but I don’t know how” I finally said.
“You could have said that from the start. My only question is why the environment and not the people who are killing it? Maybe looking at targeting the cause, helping everyone around you might make more of an effect than everything that is around you. Faster and lasts longer, I’d think.” And the wise bartender let the words settle before he walked off. The strike was black and white, emotions written across angry and exhilarated faces. The bartender’s words just clicked, they clicked in me and put my mind to work. The energy reverberating out the article had now infected me. This was something I could share. I paid my tab and when he reached for the money I held the money for just a moment longer, looking in his eyes in gratitude. Before I could let go though, five words slipped through my lips.
“Would you consider helping me?”

#11

#10

No, no more escaping. I had done enough of that, but still it was the thought closest to the surface at that point. I needed to start something, an idea to grasp, something I could follow. Bicycles whizzed around me, but those had and have enough of a market, something needed a helping hand, but it wasn’t catching my eye. Cars went along the bridge, their exhaust gave me something to breathe in, because air is never enough it seemed. I had always been an avid protector of the environment, ‘I could do something with that’ I thought. The look of the polluted shore just reinforced this conviction. Something to do with protecting the environment or stopping pollution was my calling, I was sure about that, but doubt never left my mind, as always.

#9

#8

The idea persisted with me throughout the trip and when I got out I was greeted by the sweet smell of pollution. Even though it had been less than a day since the last time I’d been in one, it seemed like forever. Now all I wanted was to get to the centre to scout for opportunity. I saw this as coming out of the hole I dug myself, and the fact that I could realize that felt better than a slap in the face. The size of the city was unprecedented to me, which made it scary, yet beautiful. It gave me both hope, that I could be a part of it and mould it, and fear, that I’d be eaten up by it and rubbed away. Now it was time to look forward and up, I had no one, but I had my ideas and me. Somehow that was reassuring and at that moment it was all I needed for my legs to move.

#7

#6

It was all that was needed, an idea. I broke my fall with my arms, but was still eating dirt. Falling to the ground is never a nice feeling, but the memory of a saying was triggered by it. My father always told me “If you fall down seven times get up eight”; and that is what I did. I stood up unfazed, looked around one last time – people were sniggering and pointing at the stranger who tripped – and walked back to the train station. I had looked around enough, I wanted a big city, something I could grasp and work with. I had the start of a business plan, but I needed a place where I could make it come to fruition. I got back onto the train I looked out of the window and bid it goodbye. I was looking forward, and the future was looking back at me. Isn’t it amazing how the future can be so uplifting?

#5

#4

I woke up with a man shaking me, telling me we’d reached our destination. I could barely remember I had left the house, much less where in the world I was now. I got off and looked around. It really didn’t match my mood at all; I was still confused and a little angry at the whole situation and myself. Completely uprooted really. This place was festive, alive, happy, colourful; in short it was flourishing. It showed its roots and its leaves, I had neither within me nor outside me. I felt like it was mocking me, telling me how stupid I was, but that must have been some delusion, because it was clearly a nothing less but a welcoming town. People were happy and laughing, animals were running, and generally making a lot of noise. That was the impression I got of the whole place right before I tripped and fell on the floor. Now my situation felt more like my emotions really, but then things started to look up.

#3

#2

Just up and leaving, that had been my dream for so long, but now it’s finally done. I had enough of it; the life everyone says is perfect is too flawed for me, the train seemed much more attractive, so after a hurried hour of packing and running I am finally sitting comfortably on my way to the middle of nowhere. Some peace and quiet before the real departure will do good to me. I think. The river does really help though, it’s calming, the sky is blue, it’s all reassuring me that I didn’t make the wrong decision. The containers are egging me on, not only because of their red push of strength, but the fact that they, as I, are leaving. I think. I didn’t really leave that much behind did I? I did have a nice house, a really impeccable girlfriend and a family who has been very distant. No, no doubting, too late for that. I have the money, I have the clothes, and I have it all, now I need to fuel the will. I think.

#1