A year of forced stillness has been doing strange things to this brain of mine, it’s been swirling thought like a storm, it’s been sending thousands of gallons of memory down through the tributaries of my mind. I look back and I see all the places I’ve wandered, the fields I’ve walked through, the laughter shared over bubble cones and late night tea. I see these people in these places and they stop feeling real, they feel like dreams that filtered through sleep and restlessness and filled my imagination with wonder. I know they are real, but time changes them, I forget the stones underfoot, I lose the fact that there were wildflowers in those grasses. Memories are like rivers, they change every time we dip a toe into them, for we change, and the eyes we look backwards with see in new lights.
Memories of travel keep the nomad fires lit. I look back to long lazy dinners spent in Germany at a friend's backyard, toasts and dances and laughs. I look back to crisp mornings spent walking in St. Stephen's Green, with my daughter, planning our day of adventure. The taste of tapas, the rain falling in Majorca - this passion for travel will never stop and memories fuel my next trip. Thanks again Tyler.
Heraclitus would be proud. This river, these words, color the soul.
Memories of travel keep the nomad fires lit. I look back to long lazy dinners spent in Germany at a friend's backyard, toasts and dances and laughs. I look back to crisp mornings spent walking in St. Stephen's Green, with my daughter, planning our day of adventure. The taste of tapas, the rain falling in Majorca - this passion for travel will never stop and memories fuel my next trip. Thanks again Tyler.