Random Snippets from the Consummate Traveler’s Personal Logs

Am I destined for my destination?

I’ve been travelling my whole life – for 26.5 years now. And only a few days of that time did I spend physically moving from one place to another. But I’ve traveled. I’ve traveled through books and words, through movies and music, through ideas and people, through every possible and impossible thing I’ve encountered.  Whatever I see or touch or taste, I stick a pair of wings to and make my next mode of transportation.

And, oh how I do fly…

I fly from one place to the next thing and then elsewhere and then next door and then wherever next. There’s always another place I have to see; someone else I have to be.

But it’s in moments like this that I travel back home. It’s in the quiet light of my room that I start undressing. It’s in the tired remains of my day that I think back to who I am. And if I’m anything at all, it’s who I am to you; it’s what I mean to you.

And so, in the quiet tired moments when I’m undeniably wide awake and yet so close to falling asleep, that’s when I travel to you. That’s when I use 26 years worth travelling experience to dissolve into an insubstantial, invisible, formless idea that is my final mode of waking transportation. I travel different in my dreams. But this gossamer idea that I embrace, so completely that it’s pressed into my skin, lifts me away to where you are. I have access to the possibility of you. And because I have a traveler’s soul, I fear I will never truly feel the despair of not actually, physically reaching you. You are my destination. But the journey itself, that is my destiny.

And I do it well.