The one and only time so far I have tasted the sweetness of freedom, I had to travel to Italy. I found myself all alone in a small town by Naples with a couple hundred bucks in my bank account. The first night I got there I didn’t know a soul. I shortly met with a girl who worked at the same place as I did. As I was feeling awfully adventurous, I invited her to go out and drink in the night town of Pozzuoli. We sat down in a nearby bar and drank Italian Spritz for one euro. We could’ve drank about five each when some guys came and talked to us. By the end of the night we had accepted an offer to go with them to their thermal pool. We got into their car as songs of which I understood nothing blasted, and we smoked cigarettes out the window. Then the moment came. I realized I was in a city in which I know nobody, with these perfect strangers, in an old car which was being driven faster than it should have been. Drunk and driving. High and singing. And I just felt the freedom in the midnight air as I knew I could very well have been driven somewhere unsafe or gotten into an accident. I felt so comfortable with the idea of the present moment. I felt comfortable with life and death. I just rode with them and laughed, feeling blissfully happy, thinking this is what freedom is. That it is worth it to look for it in every corner of the world. In every corner of my mind.