In Milan you run everywhere you go. You run down marble steps past stained glass. You zip up your buddy’s lime green track jacket, fast colors for a fast day. You cinch you backpack straps and make space noises, ZZZZZZZLLLLLUUURRP! You slide on your sunglasses and sprint past bare chested Italian men posing on billboard ice fields. They blink and miss the chance to wonder why you run so fast. You fly over bridges under clothes lines covered in pigeons. “We are wolves” plays in your head, all day, on repeat, over and over again. You run to housing office, to the document office, to the post office to make up for the time that other people wait. You run past the ticket booth because the passport photo machine ate your last 20€ and your bank card doesn’t work and cant keep up. You run to the train, away from the train station officer who is calling your name. You run because you don’t care and don’t have any other option. In Milan you run everywhere you go.
Sometimes when walking down the street on sunny days like today, I get energy bursts. You feel them first as a boiling hunger on the top of your stomach that moves quickly to the tips of your fingers and the hairs on your arms. Energy bursts make you spontaneously explode into smiles. They make you pick up the chair that a hurried stranger knocks over in Starbucks and then smile as the same man, late for his meeting but infected with your positive energy, holds the door for a meandering teenage girl on her way inside.
Energy bursts make you feel like you can jump over the building ahead of you like Spiderman. Seriously, look at that building 100 feet ahead, and summon magic from the untouched reaches of your being. You did it as a kid, remember? You could shoot fireballs like Ryu or cast spells like Gandolf. While this feeling may manifest itself outwardly as nothing more than a furrowed brow, some bootleg sound effects muttered under your breath, and slightly bent knees preparing for take-off, the feeling was real then and it’s real now. I love these days.