There’s a level of travel that you can achieve wherein you almost cease to exist as you have been known to yourself. I don’t mean it as in a feeling of meaningless, or emptiness, but a sort of new kind of existence takes place. You become just particles in motion, closer in frequency to a ghost or…

The city is as new to me as another country sometimes so it doesn’t hurt so much to be broke and unable to book the next flight out of here. But I really think we all have to do this once in our lives. Travel alone. Go away for a while and be whoever you should be. 

A friend of mine went to India recently on an internship and I just spoke to her yesterday. She passed on the itch to me and strangely enough, she didn’t really have to try. Travel is the kind of thing that you either love or loathe. My family has qualms about staying in dingy places and I should probably share those same sentiments but a few months ago, I was in a 12 dollar per night room looking out of my window at the streets of Ho Chi Minh and I knew instinctively what it meant to be found by virtue of being lost. You feel freer than you can ever imagine.