Mood of a Campervan - by Kiki B.

What if the van trip was just a return to a forgotten reality. A reality blurred by our modern society and its omnipotent screen walls, crowded nightclubs and all its futile pleasures taking us away from lost pleasures like watching a starry sky or falling into the wilderness. 

What if the trip in a van was just a return to those forgotten pleasures: not just the alpha or the omega of the trip, but the alpha AND the omega! Travelling in a van is a return to simple pleasure, stripped of all bogus subterfuge: you turn the key and that's it, you travel. Because that's what travelling in a van is all about, you stop bothering to take the bus to the airport, check in to take another bus that will take you to the plane, which will in turn take the asphalt road to finally get you laid.

The van trip bypassed this transport debauchery to return to One, the ultimate, the real one. Who never dreamed of being a snail, of being able to transport his house. My vehicle is my home, my shell is my habitat. That's also the van. We couldn't talk about the Van without talking about the pleasure of living, the pleasure of simple but refined food, the pleasure of drinking, the pleasure of the flesh. Because the Van allows you to trigger the "Aperitif Instant" at the meeting of THE spot. This place where the pause must be marked by the beauty of a place, the instantaneity of a light. You stop the Van, and you love it. You take your dose of kif, right in the face.

The whole text is terribly disjointed, but is only the reflection of a clumsy spontaneity, in the aftermath of a happy deflowering of a first trip to Camper Van. And that of the desire, impatient and touching, to set the table again as soon as he takes a breath.

Kiki.