I wrote this in Italy, after my Travel Writing teacher, asked us the question. I didn’t understand the meaning of the question until I went back to my picturesque Florentine apartment and sat in the living room, my heart dropping after realizing I was a few weeks away from flying back to the States, a home I no longer felt I belonged to.
I felt like I was saying I will See You Later, Europe, when I wrote this. I would miss getting lost in the cobblestone streets with people I just met, partying in and out of random bars, finding a cute cafe that no one else had been to, flying to another country on the weekends, and waking up to the fresh smell of local bakeries outside my window. My eyes had been open to a world I wanted to know everything about, learn about every culture, see every sight, search in every nook, crevice, and corner until I understood what it is like to be human.
–It’s the temptation of adventure that tingles from one’s toes to the tips of their eyelashes. The equator, the cusp, the edge between mundane and novelty. Why would one sit and watch the world go by; it was like a plane canceled, a missed train, an opportunity dissipating into a vanishing point. From the time one was a tot, sitting still was never an option; there were far better things to do than live a dull and glum and manic lifestyle, plastering one’s self into a single spot for a ceaseless amount of time. Wandering has always been an invitation of the mind, a luring kaleidoscope of risk and discovery and euphoria. A new angle to look at, a new window to view one’s surroundings through, new eyes to gaze into and out of. There should never be a time to surrender a lifetime of empty stories, of drab tales, of blank moods and feelings and memories to look back on and digress. One should look back and want for nothing, a full heart of culture and understanding, the earth and land no longer a distant acquaintance but an ancient friend to visit and bond with. Wandering, whether lost or directed, is always the right direction.