I kneeled down and touched the ground. The dust and small stone filled the gap between my fingers. I pressed against the ground, feeling its solidity, before I grabbed it and scrapped it onto my body. Getting dusty, getting gray, as the dust was in my hair, on my face, in my lungs. I felt bound to a ground I did not belong to, forced to walk it surface, to walk through it. A burden I had chosen, a burden I must take. Walking for home, walking away from home. One day I might draw a circle and look at the horizon, where the dust from my footprint is not erasing my trace.
-Mads Floor Andersen