Not all those who wander are lost.

What is lost, is to be bound and imprisoned by having your own unique largess pushed into contours of echoes, corralled along the beaten pathways of life. What victory to break free, to trust one’s self to venture off into the unknown unburdened by the weight, pressure, and threat of ‘doing something wrong’ for not following the herd. if even without direction, it is to be found again, freed again to create one’s own path and direction.

But travel is best in the cracks, in the unexpected encounters between appointments, in the crucial subtleties revealed when—according to our expectations and schedules—nothing is happening.

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