Leaving is a reality which confronts us all at some moment in our lives.
The great adventure or the daily outing, to seek or leave ones love, escape your country or retrieve your family. There are departures that we are waiting for, hoping for. Others we dread, which tear us apart.
They are all filled with doubts, fears, hesitations ; with joys, hopes and questionings.
To leave is to risk ; it’s the moment in which everything becomes fragile, everything can go over the edge.
But what’s left behind ?
A kiss, a piece of clothing, a fragrance…
These small things we cling on to.
To leave yet stay a while is the invisible bond
which lingers after the separation, after death.
Should one go on whatever happens ? Turn around ? Never go ?

« Life is a fucking race »
– J. Candore –
(note)