This City Dreams
Lets run through these streets. The water is still fresh in the gutters, and the cobbled stones are glistening with the cities sweat, mirroring our bodies gliding over them. Only a dream could be this real. Sleep beckons but we both know we will never have this moment again. Lets slip through the alleyways, where truths untold and unwanted lie waiting, or hidden beauty beckons undiscovered. I know this has to end, but it doesn’t have to end just yet. Lets find the city’s dreams, they can’t be far. I can feel them steaming up through the grates. I can smell them on the air. We can find them, and make them our dreams. Secret dreams that only we will ever know, for who else could believe that this city dreams, or of what it longs for. Empty streets...
The Story of Thyme
This is a true story, for whatever that kind of thing is worth. The heat of the sun is unhindered by clouds, and the ground looks as if the last time water has graced its surface was in a time forgotten by man. Or perhaps that is simply the way I am imagining things as I drag my feet for the last few kilometers into the town half way between Zamora and Riego del Camino (Spain), which is our stopping point for the night. I buy myself a coffee and a coke at the only open bar (can’t have to much caffeine on these journeys) and stumble back to the table where I remove my shoes and proceed to massage my ruined feet. I debate in my mind whether I should just call it quits for the day and stay in this town, but when I’m asked if I’m “OK” and can...
Pull Up a Chair, I Have Stories to Tell
I don’t even know where to begin, but if there ever was a good place to do so I guess it would be the beginning. So I’m going to start at the end. I just returned from a six and a half month long adventure through much of mainland Europe, the UK, and Ireland. If I were to be honest, and considering I’m only talking to a computer screen, I suppose it would be silly not to be honest, even after only one night back in the USA I’m finding it hard to believe that I ever actually left the country. Perhaps it was just a hallucination. One long and wonderful dream which I thought would never end. But end it did, and here I am sitting in front of a computer screen which is far to big for its own good, and all that line of thought leads to is that I...
Into the Highlands the Trip Shall Take Me
I have not written anything meaningful here in quite awhile. I definitely neglected my “Metaphor for Life” series, though I do plan on continuing that eventually. The fact is traveling the way I have you really have to work to find the time to sit down and write. I certainly could have done this but I suppose I’d rather meet new people, see new things, taste new foods, and generally enjoy living life. I’ve decided to sit down and write something now though because I’m about to go “off the grid” for about a month and I figure I should jot a few things down before doing so. Some updates on what I’ve done since finishing my Camino walks: I hitch-hiked alone half way to Paris before taking a train and meeting a friend...
The Thrill of The Traveler
“Upon those travelers who make their way without maps or guides, there breaks a wave of exhilaration with each unexpected change of plans. This exhilaration is not a whore who can be bought with money nor a neighborhood beauty who may be wooed. She (to persist in personifying the sensation as female) is a wild and sea-eyed undine, the darling daughter of adventure, the sister of risk, and it is for her rare and always ephemeral embrace, the temporary pressure she exerts on the membrane of ecstasy, that many men leave home.” - Jitterbug Perfume by Tom...
