Mine to keep

After three weeks of crawling into a sandy sleeping bag and hoping the night won’t be too cold or the wind too strong to take down the tent, being snuggled up in a soft bed at my friends house, with a cat at my lap and a coffee by my bedside is absolute bliss.

And as luck would have it it’s raining in Cape Town so I have the perfect excuse to stay in.

The last couple of days of my trip brought me from a major high to an unfortunate low.

The same day I witnessed one of the most breathtaking sunrises of my life, having climbed 170 metres barefoot up sand dune 45 in the Namibian desert, back on ground I found out my USB stick with photos from the last six months of travelling eleven countries, was lost.

Laying in that same sandy sleeping bag that night I struggled hard to let it go.

It’s just photos. The memories are still there. It could be worse.

Also, I had to search deep inside myself to realize why it was so important for me to keep these photos. My need to hold on to things. My whole life I have always wanted to capture and package moments. In photo albums, journals and boxes. It’s all there for the after world, for everyone.

It made me realize that sometimes I share too much. That I care too much. And that maybe it’s true what someone told me, that I should keep a little too myself.

But don’t worry. I will still show you pictures from the trip as soon as I get some from my travel companions.

I will share some of the few I have from the dunes, one of the most precious experiences of my life.

But the sensation of my bare feet in the cold early morning soil, creating a spine-like pattern towards the peak, the heartwarming moment of the sun’s first rays in my face and the thoughts that came to my mind…

I keep to myself.