Travel is a form of suspension, and an excuse for restlessness. You never travel to a place as much as you travel towards yourself.
In many ways, travel is life’s drawing. It’s a meditative process which disregards the outcome in order to be in what is now, and what is unexpected.
Everything becomes material - from strangers’ daily lives to the discarded match- boxes and cigarette wrappers found on foreign streets. Nothing can be bought, and all is found. |
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