Returning for moments. in Voices Windward

In four weeks or so, I'll be back in the UK. Back to the hunt, back to antifa, waved banners, black blocs, squats, tree houses and petitions, back to having the oppression in the land of my blood being pushed in my face, no remote distance to just settle with casual apathy, in wanderlust.

I'll be back for a spell, I'll most likely be studying photography for a while, I'll most likely use the time to finally website and automate The Resistance Movement of the UK, after I leaved then, I don't think I'll ever really move back. for I'll have a boat.

I'll watch the UK crumble from afar waiting for the day the people wake up and fight back, with words or arms, waiting. But I truly couldn't live there in the cycle of abuse and control over a sleeping beaten mass.

It's too depressing, to heart breaking.

I can't help. My own fear, timidity and selfish desire to wander make it so.

But I'll be back for a while and who knows, there maybe a Cwtch Community Centre that needs making or a Swansea Antifa that needs uniting, a Fracked Swansea // S.A.F.E (Swansea Against Fracked Energy) that needs founding or some over little ideal and seed to plant.

or maybe I'll just go running in the snow saving little fuzzies... yeah there will be at least that.

Then I'm gone, fast from the land of my blood, far from the broken love stories, the cliche jumping, the lost life and the memories of tears.

I just have to be elsewhere, I have to keep moving.

Sometimes I feel like the farthest man from home, and I don't mind.