Something happens inside of travellers when they’re in one place for too long. Sure you can take small trips here and there, but something still feels…off. I used to think that living in a foreign country would satiate my wanderlust for quite awhile; allow me to use my new city as a home base so I could travel and come back to my comfort in a foreign country. But what happens when that once foreign place now feels too routine? Another relationship, just in a new place. A day-to-day job in a once foreign city. Part of me enjoys the feeling of having a place to call home and to hang my hat, but I will always have a few things already packed under my bed, just in case. The constant flighty feeling. The nagging thought in the back of my mind of anywhere-but-here. I know it all too well. I don’t want to settle, or settle down. I want to run free and wild. There are too many places in the world I need to see; to leave no country unexplored. See. Hear. Feel. Smell. Taste. I want it all. I want to look back at my life and smile thinking of how I took it by the horns and can say with certainty that I lived. I did what made me happy, I learned and hopefully even made it a better place.
The troubles of having a gypsy soul. Who can keep up with me?