Do you ever feel like going far away? Not because you particularly want to leave, but because you’ve found so much good where you are that you want to find it somewhere else, too? I do.
Boston. New York. Maine. Paris, the South of France, and the countryside. Britain. Wales. Italy. Austria. Scotland. Ireland. New Zealand.
Wandering anonymously, my favorite way to be. Meeting new people. Standing on a precipice overlooking a breathtaking landscape, re-prioritizing my life. Sleeping in lovely hotels. Buying gifts for all my chers amis. Sending postcards to each of you. Dining on things I’ve never tried before. Sailing along the harbor. Photographing everything in color, black-and-white, still, moving. Strolling elegant gardens. Contemplating art in the finest museums. Leaving my computer at home and bringing my journal along so that I can sit and write as I eat breakfast. Reading foreign newspapers.
Somewhere, there’s a suitcase waiting to be packed, a ticket waiting to be bought, a room waiting to be booked. Someday, I’m coming for them.