Travel of Hope

When I was younger I used “Heat” as a nickname the first times I entered to chat rooms. All of sudden I was being able to communicate with any people who started a conversation.

Then I hoped for.

Weeks later after a strange way of two or three phone calls I was on a bus , climbing up the hill, past the homecenter and taking off near a square.

I was hoping for.

I look behind now and is kind of odd. With so little information I arrived and then chat.

The hope was an illusion.

But the travel was necessary. The walk of return. And the gift of their company.

Now I remembered.