Lately, I’ve been packing up my things and heading over to the west town to see what sort of life I might be able to build for myself there. It won’t be easy, to pack every bit of my life and organize it into neat cardboard boxes – a strange feeling, to think our lives might be packed away so easily. Yet, moving itself is a challenge when you’re leaving behind everything that you know, everything that you have grown familiar with over the years to discover something new. I don’t even have a reason to go, just a feeling, a desire or a longing to move in another direction that is neither forward nor backwards but simply a place to go and sights to see. I wonder how many of us have these feelings to move, to travel, but do everything that we can instead to settle down and find every excuse that we can in order to not move in the slightest. That bothers me for reasons I cannot explain well.
Even when I was younger I had been possessed by this innate desire to move my feet, to explore everything around me, to venture as far as I could without getting in too much trouble. Trouble was a certain fact but how much I would get in depended upon how bold I might have been feeling that day! So here I am, now in my twenties, and still I haven’t been able to put my feet to rest. I may never be able to and I suppose I really am content with that. I can’t think of anything else in my life that drives me as much as the desire to explore does for me. Maybe I’ll even skip the country and take off for somewhere exotic instead.