words and images by Pauline Gallot
From the desert, with Love.
I don’t know what attracted us, what made us want to leave the desert. Or go to it, or even both.
From simple «unknown» we became «known», then I don’t know what happened in between, we stayed. Together.
Usually, I force myself to drive down the road alone, it’s more exciting, more surprising, exhilarating.
I drew a line on my one and only rule. As good as it feels today, we will see what tomorrow thinks.
I have the infuriating impression that the game is played alone, 1 vs 1. Alone in our heads, alone in our life’s, alone in our pursuit of happiness. Exhausting task, so when we cross someone on the road, we stop, sometimes we take the time to talk over a coffee or even a beer, talk about this and that.
There are those who just pass along and those who stay a little bit longer. Those whom with time will settle, without you even noticing. And then for an instant an illusion is created and loneliness disappears.
And oh god it feels good it’s true! You think double, you count double, you even see double and you keep telling yourself how pretty this is.
Nonetheless, behind, in the background, the wind blows continuously, the desert is real, it’s there. The grains pile up inexorably with time, they begin by making a small pile, a hill and then it’s a sand dune, until it becomes a wall: impenetrable.
The concept of travelling is the unknown, just like in a relationship. Learning about yourself but mostly the other.
In this story, on my road, there was a spark in his eyes and smile so big it deserved a closer look to ensure its authenticity. I wanted to take a pause, burry my naked feet in the hot sand and sit on one of those dunes with him. And why not even breach a hole and keep a thin thread of hope. Grab him by the hand, the ass, the heart and even surprise me by telling that I’m in love with him.
The concept of travelling is the unknown, just like in a relationship. Learning about yourself but mostly the other. Jump head first into a story of lost souls which you will remember while growing. That weekend, we precisely had that urge, so he took the wheel, we left and I grew. We nourished ourselves with immaculate scenery and a soft tone of November weather. We climbed some summits, admired the view with our feet dangling over the void, I closed my eyes trying for an instant to forget the wind and the sand. I told myself that was what really mattered: to print a moment in your soul, that exact moment, while knowing you will know how to use it.
Wrapping yourself with it, soaking every drop of it for the heart, until the last drop for the soul when in your glass prison, the desert will be back. You will use it then as a fort until he decides for a moment to go away again.
Between France and Spain.
Pauline Gallot
