(I hate posting drivel like this, but I found it an interesting purge-of-mind. Maybe you will, too?) Finite destinations in a small world leave for only shallow and blissful journeys. It was once said that a way to see how far one has come is to return to where they have been. Though admittedly, there is a difference in being a long-term resident versus a nostalgic sightseer, and packing accordingly usually defines the length of stay before embarkation. Its most frightening being a passenger and not in full control, but the ease of travel is smooth, and the view is nice. Being there is no such thing as a truly straight line of travel, all transit is circular. Arrival proves once again nothing can stay the same, but disappointingly so, and thats perhaps the most frightening thing of all--places left neglected or in ruins find confusing, fascinating, and efficient way to rebuild. Places long forgotten and destroyed, hide-outs buried and the residents departed. New people now take their place, new places shelter them. Survivors are merely anachronistic alumni. Eventually familiarity and realization will force a this kind of traveler to travel again and again, home being an excuse and conviction of mind, for fear the stove might have been left on, or simply to guiltily face what they left when the cycle of travel began. One mans planned vacation is the fleeing desperation of another. They sit side-by-side, right now, and have no idea the other exists.
Posted on: Sun, 03 Nov 2013 22:02:22 +0000
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