Setting out (again)
A year ago I was catching a plane home. Sitting in the sky, reading Marquez, with joy in my heart when I saw the amber deserts of Los Angeles. Home.
Now I’m five hours away from catching a plane…and another plane…and another..and another and another…and three more trains. Then it’s five hundred miles of spanish soil beneath my sweaty, smelly, bloody feet. More stories, more faces, more sights and scents. More laughter and loneliness and insights—mountains peaking out from behind flaming clouds and rivers cleaving green valleys in two. And the fear has finally melted away into resolve. I can do this. I will do this.
No excuses.
