I am walking in Mestre. The sun is about to set, giving off long shadows. It’s half past four in the afternoon.

I am thinking about having this purpose in this mindless travel that I don’t know what it is. I am thinking about trusting and maybe that I’ll never know, but that somehow what I’m doing is still (all)right.

Trusting that what I am doing can’t be wrong, because I am doing it. Birds are flying, trees are treeing, I am walking. Life is living, movement is moving.

I think about wanting to understand purpose. Putting purpose into perspective and paradigm, fitting myself into a system of thought that when you invest something into something, something equal or better will come out.

But it’s very hard to apply when the investment is intangible: I don’t know what I am “investing”; maybe my time, my uncertainty, my mindlessness. At the same time, the price to be paid is high: feelings of doubt, loneliness; an unexcused gap in my CV. I don’t know if I later can un-choose this.

I think that I may be living a life of which my parents can not be proud. They can not say that they have a kid with certain accomplishments, because I am not accomplishing much. At least not much in the sense of something that can be shared and understood easily in the type of culture I find myself in. I know that they love me whatever I do, yet my mind wanders and doubts.

But even for myself, I don’t quite know how to value what I am doing.

And I want to believe that there is value in putting myself through that, but it’s hard for me to say with certainty that I’m not wasting my time.

And even though there is nothing more beautiful to do with time than to waste it, it is hard for me to stay true to any one paradigm of thought. At one point I marvel at the privilege, the next I find myself clouded and insecure.

I guess that is why I am trying to formulate a faith in which I place this responsibility outside of myself. I want to delegate, I want to give away the power of my actions, the power of my choices to something beyond me.

This is why I am saying that: it’s already written. Or: the universe decides, or: god decides or that whatever entity decides; this has already happened.

The future is already in the past.

I am just following footsteps I have already made and there is not so much point in thinking of whether it’s meaningful for me to put one foot in front of the other in this city with its setting sun. I just hope to find a second hand shop where I can find a tent so I will not be cold at night in my slow exploration of being a homeless person.

In my privileged exploration of how much privilege I can shed or how invisible I can become or how much meaning I can find in godless culture that forces me to create my own purpose.

…

(This story told in pictures.)