When I close my eyes, when my mind wanders off, this is where I go. Mountain summits. Desert trails. Lost seaside roads. Street markets. Valleys.
I have retained from my planet roaming a strange set of states of being. They’re a mix of sights, sounds, odors, feelings. They are the smile of the Italian baker in Cinque Terre, the smell of busy Chinese Hutongs and the breeze atop Waimea canyon. They are the sip of wine in a train from Barcelona, the first step down the ferry in Port-Aux-Basques, the Mexican cook’s hug on New Year’s Day.
These little snapshots are pinned and scotch taped all around inside of me. I stumble upon them all the time. They populate my daydreams, my stories. If you could gather and paste them all together, they’d be the best road map of my life and wouldn’t miss a single important moment or significant person.
Each time I step out of the everyday, this is what I’m after. Chasing moments. Shutting off my cultural reflexes, my preconceptions and what’s left of my sense of planning. Letting freedom, openness and enthusiasm breathe out loud. And smiling my teeth dry.
This is what I’m about. This is what I’m going for. The only certainty in my life.
I am a traveler.