5.8.2025

 

My dearest North Star,

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Today I did something you would be proud of. I found an old warehouse, by chance, as if luck itself had sent it my way. I set off through an old military area. Obviously, I still hope for some miracle that I will come across an unlooted ammunition depot. I did find one, but unfortunately, it was not Tutankhamun's tomb with miraculous supplies. The shelves were empty, and the air was thick and smelled like the worst pub in the morning hours after closing time. But at the back of the room, I saw a barred door. The shelves couldn’t be pulled back, so I went around the building. And then the roof caved in underneath me, and I ended up right on top of sacks of wheat. As you can imagine, it wasn’t the softest landing, but I survived without anything broken. But the water and mould had already covered the crop long ago. I don't deny that I could use a calming LSD trip, but you know me, in my case, it would have had the opposite effect, and I wouldn't have woken up from that nightmare.

 

There wasn't much, but enough to last me a few weeks. I grabbed what I could and threw it in the trunk of my car. I did leave something back there, in case someone else came along. I admit, it wasn't much, but at least it was something, and Santa will surely put me on the nice list now. Then, on the way, I ran into three kids - two girls and a boy, they couldn´t have been older than sixteen. They were trying their best to look tough, one even pulled out a shotgun at me, but the old crap fell apart in her hands. I could see it in their eyes, the hunger, the fear, the hopelessness. I held my gun ready, and they waited to see what I would do. At that moment, I remembered you and how you would never forgive me if I just left them like that. I didn't really feel like adopting three brats, I'm no Pedro Pascal, but I gave them a bag of food to last a few days. I sent them away, hoping a little that they would manage.

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Then I begged the gods, they won't come back and try to be tough again. But for a moment, I saw your kind smile, the one you have when your eyes are filled with gratitude. And then I was alone again, with nothing in my empty hands and a sunset by the horizon. Where are you, my North Star?

As always, I'll leave this letter at the church. I would never have believed that people would use churches instead of the post office, but it seems that irony is the last service the world still gives us. Tomorrow I'll go north. I always try to drive at least 300 miles, but the gas is running low and I don't know how long it will last.

Every night I fall asleep thinking of you. Wherever you are, I hope you're safe.

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With love

Damian