Lusty Highway Desires, pt. 4 (the end to begin from)

If ever someone tries to put into your mind the notion that, when it boils down to it, like some egg in a steaming soup, everywhere is the same and everyone is the same, spit on their soul and close your ears up so tight that you forget back into time the words they’ve tried to poison you with. We are all not the same, and indeed we shouldn’t be. Blacks and whites are different, just as roses and tulips or mountains and stars are. Hence the beauty of diversity. And every small town from here to as far as you can go is a new world of its own, no more similar to each other than two words with different meanings: from substance to style to attitude, all that is out there is everything you’ve never been a part of unless you take the moments necessary to become what you haven’t yet.

For the wanderlusty soul who is riddled with a desire to remain close to the hearth, for the schizophrenic in every young adventuring homebody’s blood, remember the simply comfort of this: No matter where you go and what you become, you’ll always be built on what you were and where you come from.

Happy trails to each and all.

Up Next: Lusty Highway Desires, pt. 3