Restless Me - The Journal of World Travel

A Walk in Nias

What does the ego hold? Bits of paper with secrets, hiding, stowed? The sound of Dads voice bellowing through the hole? The crushed ice nightmare burrowing through the soul? The shiny shells of Tuesday we are getting ready to throw; the lunch lady, the messiah, the wonderer, the crow. I don't like wet feet, sand, salt, or blisters. I bend at the knees to take a seat on this beach, my hand in her hand, the cracked earth, my sister.

At night I walk alone unknown in the dark. I hide in the polished puddles this night. The trees are the canopies I need, just tonight, give me this screen, onyx sheen night. I want what you want, soft succor in muddy cloaks, only by the sight of frogs- only the sole girl. I don't mind eating alone, as long as I have my ideas and sprawling words. I'll take those toads, slimy and honest.

Someone's run after me in the dark.

I say: I am not these tattoos, but they hide me. Not these clothes, but they do comfort me. Not my hair, it surrounds me. Not my body, although it holds me when I need touching. Not my posture or dark dangling hair. I am my eyes, they give away my secrets. Eyes are tiny and black and the animals can tell what's on for soup.

I am not my pinstriped socks, or green skirt that looks like an apron … although, it does draw attention away from my eyes.

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ALLISON MANNING has been waltzing around the globe for the past three years, stopping along the way to take notes, scuba dive, and engage in the rubbing of cultural elbows on the dusty dance floors of this planet. She is currently living in Brooklyn, New York, taking pictures, scribbling on bare walls, and editing her coming book, Nomad in a Slip. You can contact Allison by e-mail at hoojanpanus@aol.com