Rise, Set, Repeat
Clouds are clearing, suns are shining, blues are hueing, and all I can help but think of is if brighter skies are elsewhere. Longing is an interesting take on life, and I can’t help but wonder if the struggle between content and aspiration will ever dwindle down to at least a feeling less impending, disheartening.
I’d like to eat a type of food with a name and ingredients I’ve never heard of in a little cobblestone alleyway with plants hanging over my head and the sounds of unintelligible languages filling my ears. Maybe a busker will offer me a coin of the land in exchange for a cigarette, his keen attention to detail and broken English eyeing me for a foreigner, and my desire for using my mouth for something other than chewing, I’ll take him up on the offer and push an extra bit of food his way. He’ll tell me how it is to live there, and I’ll agree with him.
I can talk to people for ages when I’m traveling, if given the opportunity. Once you’re “not from around here” people have so much more desire to discuss this, that and whatever with you. But talking to locals is a task, a challenge, an unpleasant challenge, actually, typically to be avoided at most costs.
Up Next: Fat Pie