on travel.

This is why I travel.

Because while I crave the security of home, I cannot stay in one place for too long. I want to see how other people live, in the hopes that their lives will inspire mine. To taste the different flavours and sit amongst people so different to me and find the myriad things we have in common. I travel for new stories to write about, for the words that tumble out so much easier onto paper than they do at home. I travel to question myself and my values, to be challenged and hopefully grow stronger. I travel because we only have a few decades to explore the magic of this earth, and I don't want to have a car that spends its life stuck in a driveway, to have a body that only knows the routines of home and work and the weekend.

I live in houses that owners have built with their own hands, marvelling at how they've managed to get water out of taps they've nailed in themselves. I practice yoga in a room full of men with long hair and no shirts and realise that for once my gender is outnumbered in a yoga class. And I realise how similar and how different we all are, and how life is such a miracle.

I don't want to waste my days.