Personalities, streets, towns, trains, moving past my eyes.
Packed London streets, fresh French air high up in the Alps, lavender fields stretching across Provence, wood-fired pizza in Torino, smoked fish lined up on a coathanger along the shores of lake Issyk kul.
Constantly greeting evils and inspirations, some internal some external.
Tides of loneliness come and go, lapping against my soul like the cold Atlantic waters that surround Mt. St. Michel.
Just as the man sniffs ether in front of Shakespeare and Co
This addiction to a life in motion feeds my imagination, transporting my senses into the unknown.
Rushed goodbyes and unexpected hellos, I crave the rewards of randomness, Deep inside I am alive with the solitude and the surreal that is travel.
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