It is more about the journey than it is the destination.
Bullshit.
I have travelled, and (basketball aside), I am most relieved when, both I, and my luggage reach their final destination. Somewhere in the world I love, is a scattering of clothing and toiletries that sought the path less travelled and whose fates now remain unknown. Many a mint held fast by a pillow bears a trace of my DNA (I drool when I sleep). If there is one set of footprints on a beach, it was mine as they longed to get back to my room.
I have been 'layed over' as airports shut down. Port holed by ships that would not sail. Lobbied by hotels with no vacancy. I have even made a park bench my boudoir, lest you be judged.
Travelling without heed to your destination is homelessness. Personally, I don't trust people who disrespect the nature of plumbing simply because they would rather be wandering and wondering about the nature of something or someone else. While they are looking out for #1, they tend to find themselves lip deep in #2.
We didn't tear up all that valuable farmland to build concrete jungles, just so we could starve to death from artistic malnutrition. Our gut feelings are the destination of the yogurt that is the cultural bond that glues us all together. Forgetting this creates a bland journey. We need the fruit bottoms of society to flavour existence.
It is, in truth, not about where you are going or how you get there, but about the fat guy next to you who hogs the armrest.
DaBuoy
No comments:
Post a Comment