HOME.

I was sitting in the airport the other day. And I thought. It's been awhile since I took flight with a familiar face. I am always flying alone to some new place. Some new adventure. And I like that journey. But since when as singularity become familiarity.

It's a switch you see. You turn it on and off. Quite simple.I touch down in one place. A small place, a large place, a different place. Each time things appear to be a bit different. A bit newer. A bit inviting. The water is colder. The water is warmer. The people smile more. The people talk more. The sunrises are brighter. And the sunsets more starlit. The routines become less about routine. And less structure becomes more and more appealing.

And the place becomes a town, and the town becomes a home, and the people that are strangers by definition, become members, who become family. And family becomes familiar. And family becomes comfortable. And comfortable becomes easy. And easy becomes similar. To previous situations.

A place isn't really a place, until its a place. It doesn't exist until its felt, until its seen. And once its seen it's a bit difficult to avoid. I know lots of places. I have known many places. I have known many people.

The people, who are just people, aren't really people anymore. They are familiarity. They pull you in. Their words make you form opinions, and your opinions form thoughts, and those thoughts create threads. Those threads interconnect with other threads of words, and soon the people that were strangers pull you in.

You let yourself go. You let yourself fall. And you find yourself somewhere no different than all the other different places you have let yourself go. And you love what you see, and what you hear, and what you feel. And you love that feeling. You love that feeling of falling. Because you never let yourself fall. Because that would be to dangerous. That would be to anchoring.

And then at some point you leave. Because you always leave.That's the life of a traveler. And you miss the place, and you miss the town, and you miss the thread that you have broken. But you also miss the opportunity, and the open doors, and the inviting conversations, and the open road. You miss the new faces, and the happy ears, and the smiling eyes. And the new minds. The open minds. Because you are new. They are new. And the moment is new.

 And you can always go back. But it wont be the same. Because when faces, leave the spaces, that create towns. Towns just becomes places. And places are empty. And places are foreign. And no longer familiar. No longer comfortable. No longer easy.

So we move on.

Because places aren't really places, without the faces that have seen them. And places aren't really places without the thread between them. And when the faces fade, and the thread disappears. Then geographically its just a place, and mentally your just left with whats no longer there.

So you keep moving from place to place, from town to town, from unwound threads to more unwound threads. And you create towns, and your create spaces, and you remember faces.

And you always search for the familiarity. And when you don't find it, you create it. But it's always hard to switch. It's always hard to turn it off and on. Because unlike places, we are not just spaces.

I think I miss all the places I have seen. I miss all the spaces I helped create. I miss all the faces. I miss the colors, the smells, the sounds, the threads and the towns I created. Because now that I have left, they have all just become stories. Stories in my head. I appreciate the present for the sake of my curiosity, and familiarity. But I appreciate the past for its short stature, and it's novelty, and its crispness. Days are no longer than before, and years are flying by.

 I do not have time to create all the towns I want to. I do not have time to meet every person in the world. I do not have time to read my favorite book in 46 languages. And I don't have time to write every book I have written. I wont have the perfect conversation. And I won't climb every mountain. I won't ski every run. I won't surf every wave.

There is very little time to create something new. And there is very little time to study the old. I want to do too much, and I do too little. And I want to learn too much, and I learn too little. I want to see it all, but I see just some.

It's a curse to be a thinker. Because when you think, you remember. When you remember you know. When you know, you can't hide. My past lies in my dreams, and my dreams become more and more vivid with each new landscape my eyes search through. They become more vivid with each new face I study. They become more vivid with each object I touch. They become more vivid with each story I hear, and each voice I take in.

At some point, there has to be a pause.