I have arrived here too suddenly and yet too late.

I mean, no, I haven’t and it isn’t.

It was sort of like I imagined: finishing up what I had planned in Stockholm, touching down and then setting off again. Except that I made no plans for this day or destination in particular until only some days ago, and now I am here, and the whole internal system seems to be screaming in an ongoing stress-response;
This all feels too sudden. Too fast, and very far away.

And so unclear; I have no idea of what is going to happen.

And that was the whole point of it, and my whole commitment and concept of this travel: no plan. Follow the flow.

I wanted this.

Still, it is so hard. I feel anxious and afraid, my breath is shallow and my mind goes in doomsday-circles around itself, trying to find sense, a plan which I refuse to give.

Sure I have a place to sleep for a few nights, but what will happen after? Where will I go?

I get to work trying to process and soothe myself. Re-framing my time frame, slipping into the mindset of one-day-at-a-time. Re-membering how the last times when my context changed drastically, I had needed about a week to get used to the new way of operating, growing into the new frame of reference. This is no different, I remind the mind. Stay soft. We got this.

It is around eight in the morning when I get off at Berlin Hauptbanhof. I have slept poorly but enough on the night train, in the position of a shrimp hidden beneath my jacket. Now my legs feel weak and my shoulders strain under the weight of my backpack. My feet already have a few sores but I have decided anyway that I will walk to my friend’s place where I am staying for a few nights at Kottbusser Tor, even though Google tells me it will take me more than an hour. The movement will feel good, I know it, and I need to get stronger and used to the weight, work with my posture and the way I place my feet.

There’s nothing to do but start walking.

…

(This story told in pictures.)