• Marina

Hitchhiking

Пост обновлен 7 окт. 2018 г.


It was a hot summer day in Astrakhan, I stood on a railway station and waved to the train which carried away my new friends. It was my first time out of the home town, I went to an eco camp. My mother let me go only because we had relatives there and after camp I was supposed to visit them. She hated to travel herself and I didn’t leave home till this moment, I was 15.

After the train disappeared into the distance, I went to the payphone (no mobile phones at that time). My relatives said I can come in two weeks and hung up. There was clearly a mistake, but I was too shy to call again. I was just shocked. My mother didn’t have phone, so I couldn’t ask her.

All alone in the new town, with no money and no return ticket I was wandering around in a sort of a trance. I was scared at first, but at some point, I started to feel excited – for the first time in my life I was free from my cold controlling mother. I think at that moment a mechanism that separated me from insane actions has broken down.

I saw the sign "Pushkin Square", I stopped, he reminded me of something. I heard that this is a place where hippies hang out. I went there, and I saw a company with guitars. I stayed away at first, but then I came closer and simply told them my story.

The hippies were nice and invited me to stay over. We were listening to music and watching arthouse movies all night. At 5 am, one girl appeared in the apartment, swearing - she planned to hitchhike to Petersburg, but her partner decided to stay here.

Hesitating for a while, I said: "I'm with you!"

In half an hour we were standing on the road. I was ill prepared for traveling, I had a tiny school backpack and most of my stuff was in plastic bags, so I looked like a bum. After passing a few kilometres with the bags in hand, I simply threw them away. Light-weighted I was heading toward the big city, 2100 km ahead of me.

I had this idiotic happiness and illusion of freedom. I was always a bookworm and at that moment the line between literature and life erased. I became the hero of my own novel - an artist, a self-rescued princess, a wandering monk. I didn’t know exactly what I was going to do, but I was sure I would do something great.

Просмотров: 65
  • Черный Instagram Иконка
  • Черный Facebook Иконка
  • IMG_2017-12-23 15_04_07
  • Black Vkontakte Иконка

In case you want to help my young artistic career, you can alway use this button: